say is you can't go against luck.'
Luke concurred heartily in these sentiments, and proceeded to advance by an easy transition to a further profound statement that troubles never come singly.
'Ah, no, indeed, sir; that I do know.' Mrs. Pierce sighed. 'And when a woman has a husband and eight children — six living, and buried two, that is — well, she knows what trouble is, as you may say.'
'I suppose she does. Oh, undoubtedly,' said Luke. 'You've — er — buried two, you say?'
'One no longer than a month ago,' said Mrs. Pierce, with a kind of melancholy enjoyment.
'Dear me, very sad.'
'It wasn't only sad, sir. It was a shock, that's what it was — a shock! I came all over queer, I did, when they broke it to me. Never having expected anything of that kind to happen to Tommy, as you might say, for when a boy's trouble to you, it doesn't come natural to think of him being took. Now my Emma Jane, a sweet little mite she was. 'You'll never rear her.' That's what they said. 'She's too good to live.' And it was true, sir. The Lord knows his own.'
Luke acknowledged the sentiment and strove to return from the subject of the saintly Emma Jane to that of the less saintly Tommy.
'Your boy died quite recently?' he asked. 'An accident?'
'An accident it was, sir. Cleaning the windows of the old hall, which is now the library, and he must have lost his balance and fell — from the top windows, that was.'
Mrs. Pierce expatiated at some length on all the details of the accident.
'Wasn't there some story,' said Luke carelessly, 'of his having been seen dancing on the window sill?'
Mrs. Pierce said that boys would be boys, but no doubt it did give the Major a turn, him being a fussy gentleman.
'Major Horton?'
'Yes, sir, the gentleman with the bulldogs. After the accident happened, he chanced to mention having seen our Tommy acting very rashlike — and, of course, it does show that if something sudden had startled him, he would have fallen easy enough. High spirits, sir, that was Tommy's trouble. A sore trial he's been to me in many ways,' she finished, 'but there it was just high spirits — nothing but high spirits, such as any lad might have. There wasn't no real harm in him, as you might say.'
'No, no, I'm sure there wasn't but sometimes, you know, Mrs. Pierce, people — sober middle-aged people — find it hard to remember they've ever been young themselves.'
Mrs. Pierce sighed. 'Very true those words are, sir. I can't help but hope that some gentlemen I could name, but won't, will have taken it to heart, the way they were hard upon the lad just on account of his high spirits.'
'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
