"I'm doin' nowt but puttin' a case, as t' lawyers 'ud term it. I say 'at
theer's a lot o' things 'at owt to ha' comed out. I'll tell ye one on
'em--how is it 'at nowt--not a single word--wor said at yon inquest
about Mrs. Mallathorpe and t' affair? Not one word!"
A sudden silence fell on the company, and the landlord tapped
Collingwood's arm and took the liberty of winking at him.
"Why," inquired somebody, at last, "what about Mrs. Mallathorpe and t'
affair? What had she to do wi' t' affair?"
The blacksmith's voice became judicial in its solemnity.
"Ye listen to me!" he said with emphasis. "I know what I'm talking
about. Ye know what came out at t' inquest. When this here Pratt ran to
tell t' news at t' house he returned to what they term t' fatal spot i'
company wi' t' butler, and a couple of footmen, and Dan Scholes, one o'
t' grooms. Now theer worn't a word said at t' inquest about what that
lot--five on em, mind yer--found when they reached t' dead corpse--not
one word! But I know--Dan Scholes tell'd me!"
"What did they find, then, Mestur Stringer?" asked an eager member of
the assemblage. "What wor it?"
The blacksmith's voice sank to a mysterious whisper.
"I'll tell yer!" he replied. "They found Mrs. Mallathorpe, lyin' i' a
dead faint--close by! And they say 'at she's nivver done nowt but go out
o' one faint into another, ivver since.
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