Roger looked about him appreciatively.
“Nice little place you’ve got here.”
“Not so bad, sir. There ain’t a better bar parlour within ten miles, though I say it as shouldn’t. You two gentlemen come far today?”
“Elchester,” said Roger briefly. He did not wish to divulge the fact that he was staying at Layton Court, having no desire to waste time in parrying the stream of questions that would inevitably result from this information.
“Ah, then, you would have a thirst on you and all,” the landlord remarked approvingly.
“We have,” agreed Roger, finishing up the contents of his tankard, “so you can fill these up again for us.”
The landlord replenished the tankards and leaned confidentially over the counter.
“You heard the noos? There ain’t half been goings on round these parts this morning. Up at Layton Court. You’d pass it on the left coming from Elchester; nigh on a mile back. Gentleman shot hisself there, they say. The showver, ’e told me about it. Came in for a glass o’ beer, ’e did, same as what you two gentlemen might be doing now, an’ told me all about it. Wasn’t ’arf put out about it, ’e wasn’t. Wanted the day off tomorrow, an’ now he can’t ask for it, what with having to cart the police an’ everyone backwards and forwards an’ all.”
Roger hurriedly subdued the involuntary smile that had risen to his lips on learning Albert’s personal view of the tragedy. It would have made a striking epitaph, he felt. “Sacred to the memory of John Brown, who died, greatly regretted by everybody, especially his chauffeur, who wanted the day off.”
“Yes, I did hear something about it,” he replied carelessly. “Shocking affair. And how do you find business round here?”
“Mustn’t complain, I suppose,” said the landlord guardedly; “this bein’ the only public in the village, y’ see. An’ good drinkers they are round these parts, too,” he added with enthusiasm.
“That’s fine. I like a man who can appreciate good beer when he gets it. And I suppose you get quite a few strangers in here from time to time as well?”
“No, none too many,” said the landlord regretfully. “We lie a bit off the chief roads here, y’ see. Not but what a few walking gentlemen such as yourselves don’t drop in now and then, for all that.”
“Yes, I suppose you get a walking gentleman now and then,” Roger replied vaguely, wondering what exactly constituted a walking gentleman, and whether he was the opposite to a running gentleman. “How often would that be?”
“Well, sir, that depends, don’t it?” said the landlord cautiously, evidently determined to be entrapped into no rash statements. “Yes, that depends.”
“Does it? Well, take a special day. How many strangers came in yesterday, for instance?”
“Lor’ bless you, sir, we don’t get ’em in like that; not so many in a day. In a month, more like. Why, I don’t suppose there’s been a stranger in this bar before you gents come in not for a matter o’ nearly a week.”
“You don’t say!”
“I do, sir,” retorted the landlord with much earnestness. “I do an’ all.”
“Well, I should have thought you’d have got plenty in a cosy little place like this. Anyhow, you can be sure that I shall warn all my friends to come and pay you a visit if they happen to be in the neighbourhood. Better beer I’ve never tasted anywhere.”
“It is good beer,” the landlord admitted, almost reluctantly. “Thank you kindly, sir. And anything I can do in return for you and your friends, I’m sure I’ll be most happy.”
“Well, you can do something now, as a matter of fact,” Roger rejoined caressingly. “We’ve come over from Elchester to see Prince—er John, you know. Up at Hillcrest Farm.”
The landlord nodded. “Aye; I know.”
“So if you could put us on the right road from here, we should be very grateful.”
“Turn to the left when you get out of here and go straight on, sir,” returned the landlord promptly. “You can’t miss it. First farm on the right-’and side past the crossroads.”
“Thanks very much. Let me see, I’ve never actually met Prince before, but he’s pretty easy to recognise, I understand. Big fellow, isn’t he?”
“Aye, that ’e is. Matter o’ nigh on six feet from the top of his ’ead down; when he ’olds ’is ’ead up, that is.”
“Ah, stoops a bit, does he?”
“Well, you might call it that, sir. ’Angs ’is ’ead, in a manner of speakin’. You know ’ow they do.”
“Oh, yes; quite. Strong chap, too, isn’t he?”
“ ’E is, an’ all. It ’ud take all of six men to ’old him, if ’e did get rampageous.”
“Pretty quiet usually, then, is he?”
“Oh, aye. ’E’s quiet enough.”
“But no fool, I gather. I mean, he’s pretty intelligent, isn’t he?”
The landlord chuckled hoarsely. “Lor’ bless you, no. Prince ain’t no fool. ’E’s a clever devil, all right. Cunning, you might call ’im. Nor you wouldn’t be far wrong, neither.”
“Oh? In what way?”
“Oh, pretty nigh every way,” said the landlord vaguely. “But it’s a pity you two gents should have ’ad this walk out today. Prince was in Helchester ’isself yesterday.”
“Oho!” observed Roger softly, with a side-glance at Alec. “He was, was he?”
“Aye, at the Hagricultooral Show, ’e was.”
“Oh? What was he doing there?”
“Showin’.”
“Showing himself, was he?”
“Aye, that ’e was. An’ took a prize, too.”
“What a pity we didn’t know that; it would have saved us a journey today. By the way, you don’t know what time he came back, do you? Mr. Wetherby was there, too, I suppose?”
“Mr. Wetherby was there, but Prince didn’t come back with ’im. I see Mr. Wetherby pass by ’ere on ’is mare soon after seven o’clock. Prince wouldn’t ’ave come till a deal later than that. But they’ll tell you up at the farm better nor I can about that.”
“Oh, well, it isn’t really of the least importance, so long as I can see him up there now.”
“He’s up there now right enough,
