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Page 70
"Stop a bit, Mr. Pickard," interrupted Byner. "What does that mean--that
term 'back-end'?"
"Why, it means t' end o' t' year!" answered the landlord. "What some
folks call autumn, d'ye understand? 'One night t' last back-end,' says
this young fellow, 'I wor hengin' about on t' quiet at t' end o' Stubbs'
Lane,' he says: 'T' truth wor,' he says, 'I wor waitin' for a word wi' a
young woman 'at lives i' that terrace at t' top o' Stubbs' Lane--she wor
goin' to come out and meet me for half an hour or so. An,' he says, 'I
see'd that theer feller 'at I think I've heerd you call Parrawhite, come
out o' Stubbs' Lane wi' that lawyer chap 'at lives i' t' Terrace--Pratt.
I know Pratt,' he says, ''cause them 'at he works for--Eldricks--once
did a bit o' law business for me.' 'Where did you see 'em go to, then?'
says I. 'I see'd 'em cross t' road into t' owd quarry ground,' he says.
'I see'd 'em plain enough, tho' they didn't see me--I wor keepin' snug
agen 't wall--it wor a moonlit night, that,' he says. 'Well,' I says,
'an' what now?' 'Why,' he says, 'd'yer think I could get owt o' this
reward for tellin that theer?' So I thowt pretty sharp then, d'ye see,
mister. 'I'll tell yer what, mi lad,' I says. 'Say nowt to nobody--keep
your tongue still--and I'll tell ye tomorrow night what ye can do--I
shall see a man 'at's on that job 'tween now and then,' I says. So theer
it is," concluded Pickard, looking hard at Byner. "D'yer think this
chap's evidence 'ud be i' your line?"
"Decidedly I do!" replied Byner. "Where is he to be found?"
"I couldn't say wheer he lives," answered the landlord. "But it'll be
somewhere close about; anyway, he'll be in here tonight. Bill Thomson t'
feller's name is--decent young feller enough."
"I must contrive to see him, certainly," said Byner. "Well, now, can you
show me this Stubbs' Lane and the neighbourhood?"
"Just step along t' road a bit and I'll join you in a few o' minutes,"
assented Pickard. "We'd best not be seen leavin t' house together, or
our folk'll think it's a put-up job. Walk forrard a piece."
Byner strolled along the road a little way, and leaned over a wall until
Mr. Pickard, wearing his white billycock hat and accompanied by a fine
fox-terrier, lounged up with his thumbs in the armholes of his
waistcoat. Together they went a little further along.
"Now then!" said the landlord, crossing the road towards the entrance of
a narrow lane which ran between two high stone walls. "This here is
Stubbs' Lane--so called, I believe, 'cause an owd gentleman named
similar used to hev a house here 'at's been pulled down. Ye see, it runs
up fro' this high-road towards yon terrace o' houses. Folks hereabouts
calls that terrace t' World's End, 'cause they're t' last houses afore
ye get on to t' open moorlands. Now, that night 'at Parrawhite wor
aimin' to meet Pratt, it wor i' this very lane. Pratt, when he left t'
tram-car, t' other side o' my place, 'ud come up t' road, and up this
lane. And it wor at t' top o' t' lane 'at Bill Thomson see'd Pratt and
Parrawhite cross into what Bill called t' owd quarry ground."
"Can we go into that?" asked Byner.
"Nowt easier!" said Pickard. "It's a sort of open space where t' childer
goes and plays about: they hev'n't worked no stone theer for many a long
year--all t' stone's exhausted, like."
He led Byner along the lane to its further end, pointed out the place
where Thomson said he had seen Pratt and Parrawhite, and indicated the
terrace of houses in which Pratt lived. Then he crossed towards the old
quarries.
"Don't know what they should want to come in here for--unless it wor to
talk very confidential," said Pickard. "But lor bless yer!--it 'ud be
quiet enough anywheer about this neighbourhood at that time o' neet.
However, this is wheer Bill Thomson says he see'd 'em come."
He led the way amongst the disused quarries, and Byner, following,
climbed on a mound, now grown over with grass and weed, and looked about
him. To his town eyes the place was something novel. He had never seen
the like of it before. Gradually he began to understand it. The stone
had been torn out of the earth, sometimes in square pits, sometimes in
semi-circular ones, until the various veins and strata had become
exhausted. Then, when men went away, Nature had stepped in to assert her
rights. All over the despoiled region she had spread a new clothing of
green. Turf had grown on the flooring of the quarries; ivy and bramble
had covered the deep scars; bushes had sprung up; trees were already
springing. And in one of the worn-out excavations some man had planted a
kitchen-garden in orderly and formal rows and plots.
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