"Played a few tricks upon his employers, did he?" asked Luke, with an indulgent smile.
Mrs. Pierce responded immediately, "It was just his fun, sir, that was all. Tommy was always good at imitations. Make us hold our sides with laughing, the way he'd pretend to be that Mr. Ellsworthy at the curio shop, or old Mr. Hobbs, the churchwarden, and he was imitating his lordship up at the Manor, and the two undergardeners laughing, when up came his lordship quiet like and gave Tommy the sack on the spot; and, naturally, that was only to be expected and quite right, and his lordship didn't bear malice afterwards, and helped Tommy to get another job."
"But other people weren't so magnanimous, eh?" said Luke.
"That they were not, sir. Naming no names. And you'd never think it, with Mr. Abbot so pleasant in his manner and always a kind word or a joke."
"Tommy got into trouble with him?"
Mrs. Pierce said, "It's not, I'm sure, that the boy meant any harm. And after all, if papers are private and not meant to be looked at, they shouldn't be laid out on a table - that's what I say."
"Oh, quite," said Luke. "Private papers in a lawyer's office ought to be kept in the safe."
"That's right, sir. That's what I think, and Mr. Pierce, he agrees with me. It's not even as though Tommy had read much of it."
"What was it - a will?" asked Luke. He judged - probably rightly - that a question as to what the document in question had been might make Mrs. Pierce halt. But this direct question brought an instant response.
"Oh, no, sir; nothing of that kind. Nothing really important. Just a private letter it was - from a lady - and Tommy didn't even see who the lady was. All such a fuss about nothing - that's what I say."
"Mr. Abbot must be the sort of man who takes offense very easily," said Luke.
"Well, it does seem so, doesn't it, sir? Although, as I say, he's always such a pleasant gentleman to speak to - always a joke or a cheery word. But it's true that I have heard he was a difficult man to get up against, and him and Doctor Humbleby was daggers drawn, as the saying is, just before the poor gentleman died. And not a pleasant thought for Mr. Abbot afterwards. For, once there's a death, one doesn't like to think there's been harsh words spoken and no chance of taking them back."
Luke shook his head solemnly and murmured, "Very true - very true." He went on, "A bit of a coincidence, that. Hard words with Doctor Humbleby, and Doctor Humbleby died; harsh treatment of your Tommy, and the boy dies. I should think that a double experience like that would tend to make Mr. Abbot careful of his tongue in future."
"Harry Carter, too, down at the Seven Stars," said Mrs. Pierce. "Very sharp words passed between them only a week before Carter went and drowned himself, but one can't blame Mr. Abbot for that. The abuse was all on Carter's side. Went up to Mr. Abbot's house, he did, being in liquor at the time, and shouting out the foulest language at the top of his voice. Poor Mrs. Carter, she had a deal to put up with, and, it must be owned. Carter's death was a merciful release as far as she was concerned."
"He left a daughter, too, didn't he?"
"Ah," said Mrs. Pierce, "I'm never one to gossip." This was unexpected, but promising. Luke pricked up his ears and waited. "I don't say there was anything in it but talk. Lucy Carter's a fine-looking young woman in her way, and if it hadn't been for the difference in station, I dare say no notice would have been taken. But talk there has been, and you can't deny it; especially after Carter went right up to his house, shouting and swearing."
Luke gathered the implications of this somewhat confused speech. "Mr. Abbot looks as though he'd appreciate a good-looking girl," he said.
"It's often the way with gentlemen," said Mrs. Pierce. "They don't mean anything by it - just a word or two in passing - but the gentry's the gentry and it gets noticed in consequence. It's only to be expected in a quiet place like this."
"It's a very charming place," said Luke. "So unspoilt."
"That's what artists always say, but I think we're a bit behind the times, myself. Why, there's been no building here to speak of. Over at Ashevale, for instance, they've got a lovely lot of new houses, some of them with green roofs and stained glass in the windows."
Luke shuddered slightly. "You've got a grand new Institute here," he said.
"They say it's a very fine building," said Mrs. Pierce, without great enthusiasm. "Of course, his lordship's done a lot for the place. He means well; we all know that."
"But you don't think his efforts are quite successful?" said Luke, amused.
"Well, of course, sir, he isn't really gentry - not like Miss Waynflete, for instance, and Miss Conway. Why, Lord Easterfield's father kept a boot shop only a few doors from here. My mother remembers Gordon Ragg serving in the shop - remembers it as well as anything. Of course, he's his lordship now and he's a rich man, but it's never the same, is it, sir?"
"Evidently not," said Luke.
"You'll excuse me mentioning it, sir," said Mrs. Pierce. "And of course I know you're staying at the Manor and writing a book. But you're a cousin of Miss Bridget's, I know, and that's quite a different thing. Very pleased we shall be to have her back as mistress of Ashe Manor."
"Rather," said Luke. "I'm sure you will."
He paid for his cigarettes and paper with sudden abruptness. He thought to himself: "The personal element. One must keep that out of it. Hell, I'm here to track down a criminal. What does it matter who that black-haired witch marries or doesn't marry? She doesn't come into this."
He walked slowly along the street. With an effort, he thrust Bridget into the back of his mind. "Now then," he said to himself. "Abbot. The case against Abbot. I've linked him up with three of the victims. He had a row with Humbleby, a row with Carter and a row with Tommy Pierce, and all three died. What about the girl, Amy Gibbs? What was the private letter that infernal boy saw? Did he know who it was from? Or didn't he? He mayn't have said so to his mother. But suppose he did. Suppose Abbot thought it necessary to shut his mouth. It could be. That's all one can say about it. It could be. Not good enough."
Luke quickened his pace, looking about him with sudden exasperation. "This damned village - it's getting on my nerves. So smiling and peaceful, so innocent, and all the time this crazy streak of murder running through it. Or am I the crazy one? Was Lavinia Fullerton crazy? After all, the whole thing could be coincidence - yes, Humbleby's death and all." He glanced back down the length of the High Street, and he was assailed by a strong feeling of unreality. He said to himself, "These things don't happen."
Then he lifted his eyes to the long frowning line of Ashe Ridge, and at once the unreality passed. Ashe Ridge was real; it knew strange things - witchcraft and cruelty and forgotten blood lusts and evil rites.
He startled. Two figures were walking along the side of the ridge. He recognized them easily - Bridget and Ellsworthy. The young man was gesticulating with those curious unpleasant hands of his. His head was bent to Bridget's. They looked like two figures out of a dream. One felt that their feet made no sound as they sprang cat-like from tuft to tuft. He saw her black hair stream out behind her, blown by the wind. Again that queer magic of hers held him. "Bewitched, that's what I am - betwitched," he said to himself.
He stood quite still; a queer numbed feeling spreading over him. He thought to himself ruefully, "Who's to break the spell? There's no one."
Chapter 10
A soft sound behind him made him turn sharply. A girl was standing there, a remarkably pretty girl, with brown hair curling round her ears and rather timid-looking dark blue eyes. She flushed a little with embarrassment before she spoke. "Mr. Fitzwilliam, isn't it?" she said.
"Yes. I -"
"I'm Rose Humbleby. Bridget told me that - that you knew some people who knew my father."
Luke had the grace to flush slightly under his tan. "It was a long time ago," he said rather lamely. "They - er - knew him as a young man - before he was married."
"Oh, I see." Rose Humbleby looked a little crestfallen. But she went on, "You're writing a book, aren't you?"
"Yes. I'm making notes for one, that is. About local superstitions. All that sort of thing."
"I see. It sounds frightfully interesting."
Luke smiled at her. He thought, "Our Doctor Thomas is in luck."
"There are people," he said, "who can make the most exciting subject unbearably boring. I'm afraid I'm one of them."
Rose Humbleby smiled back. Then she said, "Do you believe in - in superstitions and all that?"
"That's a difficult question. It doesn't follow, you know. One can be interested in things one doesn't believe in."
"Yes, I suppose so." The girl sounded doubtful.
"Are you superstitious?"
"N-no, I don't think so. But I do think things come in - in waves."
"Waves?"
"Waves of bad luck and good luck. I mean, I feel as though lately all Wychwood was under a spell of - of misfortune. Father dying, and Miss Fullerton being run over, and that little boy who fell out of the window. I - I began to feel as though I hated this place - as though I must get away."
Her breath came rather faster. Luke looked at her thoughtfully. "So you feel like that?"
"Oh, I know it's silly. I suppose really it was poor Daddy dying so unexpectedly - it was so horribly sudden." She shivered. "And then Miss Fullerton. She said -" The girl paused.
"What did she say? She was a delightful old lady, I thought - very like a rather special aunt of mine."
"Oh, did you know her?" Rose's face lit up. "I was very fond of her and she was devoted to Daddy. But I've sometimes wondered if she was what the Scotch call 'fey.'"
"Why?"
"Because - it's so odd - she seemed quite afraid that something was going to happen to Daddy. She almost warned me. Especially about accidents. And then that day, just before she went up to town, she was so odd in her manner - absolutely in a dither. I really do think, Mr. Fitzwilliam, that she was one of those people who have second sight. I think she knew that something was going to happen to her. And she must have known that something was going to happen to Daddy too. It's - it's rather frightening, that sort of thing!" She moved a step nearer to him.
"There are times when one can foresee the future," said Luke. "It isn't always supernatural, though."
"No, I suppose it's quite natural, really - just a faculty that most people lack. All the same it worries me."
"You mustn't worry," said Luke gently. "Remember, it's all behind you now. It's no good going back over the past. It's the future one has to live for."
"I know. But there's more, you see." Rose hesitated. "There was something - to do with your cousin."
"My cousin? Bridget?"
"Yes. Miss Fullerton was worried about her in the same way. She was always asking me questions. I think she was afraid for her too."
Luke turned, sharply scanning the hillside. He had an unreasoning sense of fear for Bridget. Fancy - all fancy! Ellsworthy was only a harmless dilettante who played at shopkeeping. As though reading his thoughts. Rose said, "Do you like Mr. Ellsworthy?"
"Emphatically no."
"Geoffrey - Doctor Thomas, you know - doesn't like him either."
"And you?"
"Oh, no, I think he's dreadful." She drew a little nearer. "There's a lot of talk about him. I was told that he had some queer ceremony in the Witches' Meadow - a lot of his friends came down from London - frightfully queer-looking people. And Tommy Pierce was a kind of acolyte."
"Tommy Pierce?" said Luke sharply.
"Yes. He had a surplice and a red cassock."
"When was this?"
"Oh, some time ago. I think it was in March."
"Tommy Pierce seems to have been mixed up in everything that ever took place in this village."
Rose said, "He was frightfully inquisitive. He always had to know whatever was going on."
"He probably knew a bit too much in the end," said Luke grimly.
Rose accepted the words at their face value.
"He was rather an odious little boy. He liked cutting up wasps and he teased dogs."
"The kind of boy whose decease is hardly to be regretted."
"No, I suppose not. It was terrible for his mother, though."
"I gather she has six blessings left to console her. She's got a good tongue, that woman."
"She does talk a lot, doesn't she?"
"After buying a few cigarettes from her, I feel I know the full history of everyone in the place."
Rose said ruefully, "That's the worst of a place like this. Everybody knows everything about everybody else."
"Oh, no," said Luke.
She looked at him inquiringly.
Luke said, with significance, "No one human being knows the full truth about another human being. Not even one's nearest and dearest."
"Not even -" She stopped. "Oh, I suppose you're right, but I wish you wouldn't say frightening things like that, Mr. Fitzwilliam."
"Does it frighten you?"
Slowly, she nodded her head. Then she turned abruptly. "I must be going now. If - if you have nothing better to do - I mean if you could - do come and see us. Mother would - would like to see you because of your knowing friends of Daddy's so long ago."
She walked slowly away down the road. Her head was bent a little, as though some weight of care or perplexity bowed it down.
