Meanwhile the inquest was held, and all the
countryside talked of Mr. Fouracres, whose story, of course, was published
in full detail by the newspapers. Once more opinions were divided as to
whether the hapless landlord really had or had not entertained His Royal
Highness. Plainly, Mr. Fouracres' presence in the grounds of Woodbury Manor
was due to the fact that the Prince happened to be staying there. In a
state of irresponsibility, partly to be explained by intoxication, partly
by the impulse of his fixed idea, he must have gone rambling in the dark
round the Manor, and there, by accident, have fallen into the water. No
clearer hypothesis resulted from the legal inquiry, and with this all
concerned had perforce to be satisfied. Mr. Fouracres was buried, and, on
the day after the funeral, his sister returned to London. She showed no
interest whatever in her niece, who, equally independent, asked neither
counsel nor help.
Mr. Ruddiman and his hostess were alone together at the Pig and Whistle.
The situation had a certain awkwardness. Familiars of the inn--country-folk
of the immediate neighbourhood--of course began to comment on the state of
things, joking among themselves about Mr.
Pages:
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464