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Updated: June 25, 2025
"I only heard of this terrible crime an hour ago," she said, speaking once more to Boatfield, "and as I methinks, am the only person in the world who can throw light upon this awesome mystery, I thought it my duty to come." "Of a truth 'twas brave of your ladyship," quoth the squire, feeling a little bewildered at this strange announcement, "but surely ... you did not know this man?"
"Eh? ... what?" she queried, approaching the squire, "I am somewhat hard of hearing these times." "We were speaking of your lodger, mistress," rejoined Boatfield, raising his voice, "harm hath come to him, you know."
At sight of Boatfield, Pyot unceremoniously left Master Busy standing, open-mouthed, in the very midst of a voluble sentence, and approached the squire, doffing his cap respectfully as he did so. "Will your Honor sign a warrant?" he asked. "A warrant?
Squire Boatfield was now quite satisfied that the identity of the victim was firmly established, and anon he did his best being a humane man to obtain Christian burial for the stranger. After some demur, the parson at Minster declared himself willing to do the pious deed.
She was not watching Squire Boatfield who was wielding the balls just then with remarkable prowess, and at this last remark from the portly old dame, she turned sharply round and said with a strange little air of haughtiness which somehow became her very well: "But then you see, mistress, Master Lambert's employer doth not possess a daughter of his own only a ward ... mayhap that is the reason why his secretary performs his duties so well in other ways."
There was nothing more to be done here at this cottage, where the veil of mystery which had fallen over the gruesome murder had been so unexpectedly lifted by a septuagenarian's hand. Squire Boatfield was vastly perturbed. Never had his position as magistrate seemed so onerous to him, nor his duties as major-general quite so arduous.
The news of the police raid on a secret gambling club in London, together with the fracas which it entailed, had of necessity reached even as far as sea-girt Thanet. Squire Boatfield had been the first to hear of it; he spread the news as fast as he could, for he was overfond of gossip, and Dame Harrison over at St. Lawrence had lent him able assistance.
"He may have powerful friends ... or such as would resist the watches ... resist us, mayhap ... a warrant would be useful...." "Aye! aye! you are right, constable," said Boatfield, still a little bewildered, "do you come along to Sarre with me, I'll give you a warrant this very night. Have you a horse here?"
Boatfield seemed upset and somewhat resentful, the old woman sullen, despite the deference in her attitude, Lambert defiant, wrathful, nay! full of an incipient desire to avenge past wrongs.
"Not your entire fortune, my dear, dear child, I hope ..." ejaculated Squire Boatfield, more horror-struck this time than he had been when first he had heard of the terrible murder. "The wallet contained my entire fortune," rejoined Sue calmly, "all that Master Skyffington had placed in my hands on the day that my father willed that it should be given me."
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