He fastened at once on the really important and serious
information that the person who was stopping at the Talbot Arms
had shortly before turned down the side footpath.
"All right, my boy," he said, tossing the lad sixpence, the first
coin he came across in his waistcoat pocket. The boy opened his
eyes wide, and pocketed it with a grin. So unexpected a largess
sufficed to impress the handsome stranger firmly on his memory. He
didn't forget him when a few days later he was called on to give
evidence--at a coroner's inquest.
But Guy, unsuspicious of the harm he had done himself, walked on,
all on fire, down the woodland path. It was a shady path, and it
led through a deep dell arched with hazels on every side, while a
little brawling brook ran along hard by, more heard than seen, in
the bottom of the dingle. Thick bramble obscured the petty rapids
from view and half trailed their lush shoots here and there across
the pathway. It was just such a mossy spot as Cyril would have loved
to paint; and Guy, himself half an artist by nature, would in any
other mood have paused to gaze delighted on its tangled greenery.
As it was, however, he was in no mood to loiter long over ferns and
mosses.
Pages:
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232