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Updated: May 29, 2025
Clough, a rough and ready Yorkshirewoman, who had looked after the old man as long as he, Collingwood, could remember. She received him as calmly as if he had merely stepped across the street to inquire after his grandfather's health. "I thowt ye'd be down here first thing, Mestur Collingwood," she said, as he walked into the parlor at the back of the shop.
And of course I had all in readiness when they brought him back last night there was naught to do but lay him out. Me and Mrs. Thompson next door, did it, i' no time. Wheer will you be for buryin' him, Mestur Collingwood?" "We must think that over," answered Collingwood. "Well, an' theer's all ready for that, too," responded Mrs. Clough.
He pointed to a low-roofed house set amidst elms and chestnuts, some distance off across the moor. "Lives theer, does Mestur Shepherd varry well-to-do man, he is." "How could that water be drained off?" asked Byner with assumed carelessness. "Easy enough!" replied Pickard. "Cut through yon ledge, and let it run into t' far quarry there. A couple o' men 'ud do that job in a day."
"Goodish thirty feet o' water in that there!" surmised Pickard. "It's none safe for childer to play about theer's nowt to protect 'em. Next time I see Mestur Shepherd I shall mak' it my business to tell him so; he owt either to drain that watter off or put a fence around it." "Is Mr. Shepherd the property-owner?" asked Byner. "Aye! it's all his, this land," answered Pickard.
They nivver ax no questions out o' their own mouths they're as dumb as sheep that's what yon jury wor this mornin' now then!" "That's James Stringer, the blacksmith," whispered the landlord, coming close to Collingwood's elbow. "He thinks he knows everything!" "And pray, what would you ha' done, Mestur Stringer, if you'd been on yon jury?" inquired a milder voice.
It's important." "Why, ye don't suspect him of owt, do yer, Mestur Stringer?" asked somebody. "A respectable young feller like that theer come!" "I'm sayin' nowt about suspectin' nobody!" vociferated the blacksmith. "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.
When the boy had gone Collingwood locked up the shop from the house side, put the key in his pocket, and went into the kitchen. "Mrs. Clough," he said. "I want to see the clothes which my grandfather was wearing when he was brought home last night. Where are they?" "They're in that little room aside of his bed-chamber, Mestur Collingwood," replied the housekeeper.
Clough was talking to a sharp-looking lad, of apparently sixteen or seventeen years, who stood at the door leading into the shop, and who glanced at Collingwood with keen interest and speculation. "Here's Jabey Naylor wants to know if he's to do aught, Mestur," said the housekeeper.
"He's had his grave all ready i' the cemetery this three year I remember when he bowt it it's under a yew-tree, and he told me 'at he'd ordered his monnyment an' all. So yer an' t' lawyers'll have no great trouble about them matters. Mestur Eldrick, he gev' orders for t' coffin last night."
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.
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