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Updated: May 15, 2025
The men saluted him and went on their way, but he turned and fled as quickly as he dared. In the afternoon Master Busy brought the news down from Prospect Inn. The body of the man who had called himself a French prince had been found murdered and shockingly mutilated on the sands at Epple. Sir Marmaduke was vastly interested.
He searched her face, wondering if she had heard the news. The mist of the night had yielded to an icy drizzle, but Sir Marmaduke could not remain within. His footsteps guided him in the direction of Acol, on towards Epple Bay. On the path which leads to the edge of the cliffs he met the watches who were tramping on towards the beach.
The feeling which prevailed in Thanet with regard to the murder of the mysterious foreigner on the sands of Epple Bay was chiefly one of sullen resentment.
He would know absolutely now, exactly what everyone thought of the mysterious French prince and of his terrible fate on Epple sands. Thank Satan and all his hordes of devils that heavy chalk boulders had done so complete a work of obliteration.
The thought of the lonely path near the cliffs of Epple Bay tickled his fancy in a manner for which perhaps at this moment he himself could not have accounted. He certainly did not fear Adam Lambert and now said decisively: "Very well, my friend, an you wish it, I'll come." "Half an hour before midnight," insisted Lambert, "on the cliffs at Epple Bay."
On the morning following his crime he made a vigorous effort to rally his scattered senses, to walk, to move, and to breathe as if nothing had happened, as if nothing lay out there on the sands of Epple, high and dry now, for the tide would have gone out.
Of course the news had traveled slowly from cottage to cottage, although Petty Constable Pyot, who resided at St. Nicholas, had immediately apprised Squire Boatfield and Sir Marmaduke de Chavasse of the awesome discovery made by the watches on the sands of Epple Bay. Squire Boatfield was major-general of the district and rode over from Sarre directly he heard the news.
The farmhands and laborers who dwelt in the cottages dotted about around St. Nicholas-at-Wade, Epple or Acol were really angry with the stranger for allowing himself to be murdered on their shores.
"Half an hour before midnight: on the cliffs of Epple Bay," assented the other. He picked up his hat. "Where art going?" queried the smith suspiciously. "To change my clothing," replied Sir Marmaduke, who was fingering that fateful tinder-box which alone had brought about the present crisis, "and to fetch those proofs which you are so anxious to see." "Thou'lt not fail me?"
"Thou'lt meet me to-night," he said loudly and threateningly now, "thou'lt meet me on the path near the cliffs of Epple Bay half an hour before midnight, and if thou hast lied to me, I'll throw thee over and Thanet then will be rid of thee ... but if thou dost not come, I'll to my brother Richard even before the church clock of Acol hath sounded the hour of midnight."
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