CHAPTER XXXIII
THE DAY AFTER
The feeling which prevailed in Thanet with regard to the murder of themysterious foreigner on the sands of Epple Bay was chiefly one of sullenresentment.
Here was a man who had come from goodness knows where, whose strangewanderings and secret appearances in the neighborhood had oft roused theanger of the village folk, just as his fantastic clothes, his silkendoublet and befrilled shirt had excited their scorn; here was a man, Isay, who came from nowhere, and now he chose--the yokels of theneighborhood declared it that he chose--to make his exit from the worldin as weird a manner as he had effected his entrance into this remoteand law-abiding little island.
The farmhands and laborers who dwelt in the cottages dotted about aroundSt. Nicholas-at-Wade, Epple or Acol were really angry with the strangerfor allowing himself to be murdered on their shores. Thanet itself hadup to now enjoyed a fair reputation for orderliness and temperance, andthat one of her inhabitants should have been tempted to do away withthat interloping foreigner in such a violent manner was obviously thefault of that foreigner himself.
The watches had found him on the sands at low tide. One of them walkingalong the brow of the cliff had seen the dark object lying prone amongstthe boulders, a black mass in the midst of the whiteness of the chalk.
The whole thing was shocking, no doubt, gruesome in the extreme, but themystery which surrounded this strange death had roused ire rather thanhorror.
Of course the news had traveled slowly from cottage to cottage, althoughPetty Constable Pyot, who resided at St. Nicholas, had immediatelyapprised Squire Boatfield and Sir Marmaduke de Chavasse of the awesomediscovery made by the watches on the sands of Epple Bay.
Squire Boatfield was major-general of the district and rode over fromSarre directly he heard the news. The body in the meanwhile had beenplaced under the shelter of one of the titanic caves which giant handshave carved in the acclivities of the chalk. Squire Boatfield ordered itto be removed. It was not fitting that birds of prey should be allowedto peck at the dead, nor that some unusually high tide should once morecarry him out to sea, ere his murderer had been brought to justice.
Therefore, the foreigner with the high-sounding name was conveyed by thewatches at the squire's bidding to the cottage of the Lamberts over atAcol, the only place in Thanet which he had ever called his home.
The old Quakeress, wrathful and sullen, had scarce understood what thewhole pother was about. She was hard of hearing, and Petty ConstablePyot was at great pains to explain to her that by the major-general'sorders the body of the murdered man should be laid decently undershelter, until such time as proper burial could be arranged for it.
Fortunately before the small cortege bearing the gruesome burden hadarrived at the cottage, young Richard Lambert had succeeded in makingthe old woman understand what was expected of her.
Even then she flatly and obstinately refused to have the strangerbrought into her house.
"He was a heathen," she declared emphatically, "his soul hath mayhapgone to hell. His thoughts were evil, and God had him not in Hiskeeping. 'Tis not fit that the mortal hulk of a damned soul shouldpollute the saintliness of mine own abode."
Pyot thought that the old woman was raving, but Master Lambert veryperemptorily forbade him to interfere with her. The young man, thoughquite calm, looked dangerous--so thought the petty constable--andbetween them, the old Quakeress and the young student defied theconstables and the watches and barred the cottage to the entrance of thedead.
Unfortunately, the smith was from home. Pyot thought that the latter hadbeen more reasonable, that he would have understood the weight ofauthority, and also of seemliness, which was of equally graveimportance.
There was a good deal of parleying before it was finally decided toplace the body in the forge, which was a wooden lean-to, resting againstthe north wall of the cottage. There was no direct access from thecottage to the forge, and old Mistress Lambert seemed satisfied that theforeigner should rest there, at any rate until the smith came home,when, mayhap, he would decide otherwise.
At the instance of the petty constable she even brought out a sheet,which smelt sweetly of lavender, and gave it to the watchmen, so thatthey might decently cover up the dead; she also gave them three elmchairs on which to lay him down.
Across those three chairs the body now lay, covered over with thelavender-scented sheet, in the corner of the blacksmith's forge, over bythe furnace. A watchman stayed beside it, to ward off sacrilege: anyonewho desired could come, and could--if his nerves were strongenough--view the body and state if, indeed, it was that of the foreignerwho all through last summer had haunted the woods and park of Acol.
Of a truth there was no doubt at all as to the identity of the dead. Hisfantastic clothes were unmistakable. Many there were who had seen himwandering in the woods of nights, and several could swear to the blacksilk shade and the broad-brimmed hat which the watchmen had found--highand dry--on a chalk boulder close to where the body lay.
Mistress Lambert had refused to look on the dead. 'Twas, of course, nofit sight for females, and the constable had not insisted thereon: butshe knew the black silk shade again, and young Master Lambert hadcaught sight of the murdered man's legs and feet, and had thereuponrecognized the breeches and the quaint boots with their overwide topsfilled with frills of lace.
Master Hymn-of-Praise Busy, too, though unwilling to see a corpse,thought it his duty to help the law in investigating this mysteriouscrime. He had oft seen the foreigner of nights in the park, and neverdoubted for a moment that the body which lay across the elm chairs inthe smith's forge was indeed that of the stranger.
Squire Boatfield was now quite satisfied that the identity of the victimwas firmly established, and anon he did his best--being a humane man--toobtain Christian burial for the stranger. After some demur, the parsonat Minster declared himself willing to do the pious deed.
Heathen or not, 'twas not for Christian folk to pass judgment on him whono longer now could give an explanation of his own mysterious doings,and had of a truth carried his secrets with him in silence to the grave.
Was it not strange that anyone should have risked the gallows for thesake of putting out of the way a man who of a surety was not worthpowder or shot?
And the nerve and strength which the murderer had shown! ... displacinggreat boulders with which to batter in his victim's face so that noteven his own kith and kin could recognize that now!