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Jones to hide her five-pound note all Symford knew of that as well, and also of the five-pound note Mrs. Morrison had taken away. Nothing was talked of in Symford but Priscilla.
She knew it was true that she could not help existing, but she knew besides, far back in a remote and seldom investigated corner of her mind, a corner on which she did not care to turn the light of careful criticism, that she ought not to be existing in Symford.
"Perhaps you can change this?" she said, holding out the note. "The shop's shut now, miss," said Laura, gazing with round eyes at the mighty sum. "Well then take it, and bring me the change in the morning." Emma took it with trembling fingers she had not in her life touched so much money and ran out into the darkness to where her John was waiting. Symford never saw either of them again.
The murderer, whose reputation in Minehead was so immaculate that not a single fly had ever dared blow on it, said kindly that no doubt just to have it in her possession was cheering and that one should not grudge the old their little bits of comfort; and he walked over to Symford that night, and getting there about one o'clock murdered Mrs. Jones. I will not enter into details.
"Even one pair is a most unusual occurrence." "If there are," said Robin very earnestly, "pray let us cultivate the Schultz set and not the other." "I don't understand it," repeated the vicar, helplessly. Symford, innocent village, went to bed very early; but early as it went long before it had got there on this evening it contained no family that had not heard of the arrivals at Baker's Farm.
"I hope you'll believe that I've not. Must I be gloomy?" "How do you know Fritzing's here?" "Why everybody knows that." "Everybody?" There was an astonished pause. "How do you know we're here here, in Creeper Cottage?" "Creeper Cottage is it? I didn't know it had a name. Do you have so many earwigs?" "How did you know we were in Symford?" "Why everybody knows that." Priscilla was silent.
The obligations, she considered, were all on the side of Creeper Cottage, and she retreated in amazement and anger to the kitchen, put on her hat and mackintosh, and at once departed, regardless of the rain and the consequences, through two miles of dripping lanes to Symford Hall.
But on this dark side of the picture I do not care to look; the party, anyhow, had been a great success, and Priscilla became at one stroke as popular among the poor of Symford as she had been in Lothen-Kunitz.
He had had a varied career into the details of which I do not propose to go, had come three or four years before to live in the West of England because it was so far from all the other places he had lived in, had got work in Minehead, settled there respectably, married, and was a friend of that carrier who brought the bread and other parcels every day to the Symford store.
He was up on the heath above Symford, a solitary place of heather, and gorse bushes, and winding roads that lead with many hesitations and delays to different parts of Exmoor, and he himself with his back to that wild region and the sunset was going, as every sensible person would be going at that time of the evening, in the direction of the village and home. But where could the girl be going?
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