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Poor Bone'm had been enticed to his death by a piece of poisoned meat, thrown to him probably some considerable time before the attack was made. Who were the murderers? That of course was the first question. It need hardly be said with how sad a heart Mr. Fenwick discussed this matter with the Squire. Of course inquiry must be made of the manner in which Sam Brattle had passed the night.
"The truth is, there be such a deal of talk o' thieves about the country, that no one likes to part with such a friend as that. Muster Crickly, over at Imber, he have another big dog it's true, a reg'lar mastiff, but he do say that Crunch'em be better than the mastiff, and he won't let 'un go, parson, not for love nor money. I wouldn't let Bone'm go, I know; not for nothing." Then Mr.
It was proved that they had been seen in the neighbourhood both before and after the murder; that boots found in the cottage at Pycroft Common fitted certain footmarks in the mud of the farmer's yard; that Burrows had been supplied with a certain poison at a county chemist's at Lavington, and that the dog Bone'm had been poisoned with the like.
In the farmyard he found quite a crowd of men, including the two constables and three or four of the leading tradesmen in the village. The first thing that he saw was the dead body of Bone'm, the dog. He was stiff and stark, and had been poisoned. "How's Mr. Trumbull?" he asked, of the nearest by-stander. "Laws, parson, ain't ye heard?" said the man.
You come with me, and you can pass home that way. The chances are they'll mizzle away to bed, as they've seen you, and heard Bone'm, and probably heard too every word you said to Trumbull." He then got his hat and the short, thick stick of which he had spoken, and turning the key of the door, put it in his pocket.
What with the constable and the life-preserver, we'll be safe. I've a big dog coming, a second Bone'm. Sam Brattle is in more danger, I fear, than the silver forks." But, in spite of the cheeriness of his speech, the Vicar was anxious, and almost unhappy.
I want to get round to the front of the parson's house." "Zurely, zurely," said the farmer, coming forward and opening the gate. "Be there anything wrong about, Squire?" "I don't know. I think there is. Speak softly. I fancy there are men lying in the churchyard." "I be a-thinking so, too, Squire. Bone'm was a growling just now like the old 'un."
The men must probably have entered by the churchyard and the back gate of the farmyard, as that had been found to be unlatched, whereas the gate leading out on to the road had been found closed. The farmer himself had always been very careful to close both these gates when he let out Bone'm before going to bed.
Gilmore through the farmyard, and out on to the road, Bone'm growling a low growl as he passed away. The Squire hurried along the high road, past the church, and in at the Vicarage front gate. Knowing the place well, he could have made his way round into the garden; but he thought it better to go to the front door.
Why she had known the old man well, had always been in the habit of speaking to him when she met him either at the one gate or the other of the farmyard, had joked with him about Bone'm, and had heard him assert his own perfect security against robbers not a week before the night on which he was murdered! As Mrs.
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