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Page 16
"What's this, Mr. Mitchington?" she demanded as they drew near
across the cobble-paved yard. "Somebody's been in to say
there's been an accident to a gentleman, a stranger--I hope it
isn't one of the two we've got in the house?"
"I should say it is, ma'am," answered the inspector. "He was
seen outside here last night by one of our men, anyway."
The landlady uttered an expression of distress, and opening a
side-door, motioned them to step into her parlour.
"Which of them is it?" she asked anxiously. "There's two
--came together last night, they did--a tall one and a short
one. Dear, dear me!--is it a bad accident, now, inspector?"
"The man's dead, ma'am," replied Mitchington grimly. "And we
want to know who he is. Have you got his name--and the other
gentleman's?"
Mrs. Partingley uttered another exclamation of distress and
astonishment, lifting her plump hands in horror. But her
business faculties remained alive, and she made haste to
produce a big visitors' book and to spread it open before her
callers.
"There it is!" she said, pointing to the two last entries.
"That's the short gentleman's name--Mr. John Braden, London.
And that's the tall one's--Mr. Christopher Dellingham--also
London. Tourists, of course--we've never seen either of them
before."
"Came together, you say, Mrs. Partingley?" asked Mitchington.
"When was that, now?"
"Just before dinner, last night," answered the landlady.
"They'd evidently come in by the London train--that gets in at
six-forty, as you know. They came here together, and they'd
dinner together, and spent the evening together. Of course,
we took them for friends. But they didn't go out together
this morning, though they'd breakfast together. After
breakfast, Mr. Dellingham asked me the way to the old Manor
Mill, and he went off there, so I concluded. Mr. Braden, he
hung about a bit, studying a local directory I'd lent him,
and after a while he asked me if he could hire a trap to take
him out to Saxonsteade this afternoon. Of course, I said he
could, and he arranged for it to be ready at two-thirty. Then
he went out, and across the market towards the Cathedral. And
that," concluded Mrs. Partingley, "is about all I know,
gentlemen."
"Saxonsteade, eh?" remarked Mitchington. "Did he say anything
about his reasons for going there?"
"Well, yes, he did," replied the landlady. "For he asked me
if I thought he'd be likely to find the Duke at home at that
time of day. I said I knew his Grace was at Saxonsteade just
now, and that I should think the middle of the afternoon would
be a good time."
"He didn't tell you his business with the Duke?" asked
Mitchington.
"Not a word!" said the landlady. "Oh, no!--just that, and no
more. But--here's Mr. Dellingham."
Bryce turned to see a tall, broad-shouldered, bearded man pass
the window--the door opened and he walked in, to glance
inquisitively at the inspector. He turned at once to Mrs.
Partingley.
"I hear there's been an accident to that gentleman I came in
with last night?" he said. "Is it anything serious? Your
ostler says--"
"These gentlemen have just come about it, sir," answered
the landlady. She glanced at Mitchington. "Perhaps you'll
tell--" she began.
"Was he a friend of yours, sir?" asked Mitchington. "A
personal friend?"
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