gaffer. Thwaiteâs toothless mouth opened a hole in his copious whiskers and he shook his head gravely.
âNot a thing, Mr Cragg sir. Not a thing, only this.â
He produced a horseshoe from beneath his smock. âWhere was it?â
âOn ground, under the leaf-mould.â
âNear the body?â
âNo, no. A dozen yard away.â
I inspected the find. It was worn away from use, but not rusty.
âDid you find any nails still in the holes? Thereâs none there now.â
âNo, it were just as you see it.â
âWell, it doesnât seem of any significance but perhaps it will bring us good luck in our inquest, Mr Thwaite,â I said.
Thwaite spat a thick, tobacco-stained gob onto the cobbles.
âIt didnât bring the mistress owt of that, did it, though it was by when she died?â
I could think of no clinching reply to this so I just thanked him and went back inside. As I stood in the passage, about to push open the kitchen door, a servant-girl appeared at the passage end, coming from the family side of the house and wearing oversleeves and a calico apron.
âMr Cragg, is it?â she asked. âIâm Polly, sir. Mrs Pearson, she says Iâm to come from my work and see you.â
âYes, we must have a talk,â I said. âCome with me, will you?â
And she followed me submissively, through the kitchen and the pantry, to the parlour.
Chapter Four
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I PUT THE HORSESHOE on the mantelpiece, poked the fire and flung myself into Mrs Marsdenâs wing chair. Polly Milroy I invited to take the chair on the opposite side of the hearth. The whiteness of the girlâs mob cap emphasized the self-conscious flush of her face. I adopted a kindly tone.
âSo, Polly, you are the sister of Jenny, whom I met in the woods this morning?â
âYes, sir.â
âAnd in addition you are â or were â Mrs Brockletowerâs personal maid.â
âYes, sir, I was that.â
âTell me about her.â
âWhat sort of thing would you want to know, sir?â
âWell, the sort of thing that might help to explain what happened. Why sheâs dead.â
Her eyes searched the hearthrug for an answer, but did not find one.
âFor instance,â I prompted, âhad she ever told you about anything that happened to her before, while she was out riding? Was there anyone she saw in the woods, maybe?â
She made her eyes wider, suddenly excited.
âYou mean meeting on purpose? Secret meetings with strangers?â
âThatâs not quite what I meant but, very well, were there any secret meetings?â
âIf there was, she wouldnât have told me.â
âWere you not privy to your mistressâs secrets? Some personal maids are, so I understand.â
She shook her head.
âNever, sir. Mistress was very private and serious. Didnât tell secrets. Didnât laugh and joke. Now I think of it I donât know why she was bothered having a ladyâs maid at all.â
âWell, itâs usual, surely.â
âYes, but for all the use she made of me she mightnât have been bothered. She never let me dress or undress her. I put her room in order but the closest I got to herself was when I braided her hair, or brushed it. She was always fretting about that hair. Were the ends split, was it falling out? She was always going on about it falling out.â
âOh?â
âIt didnât grow as thick as she would have liked it. She said it was fretting that did it.â
âAh! Worrying. What did she worry about, do you think?â
âMaybe it was Squire. He ⦠Oh, no. I shouldnât tell that, should I? Will I not get into trouble?â
âYou must tell what you truthfully know, and I will guarantee it does you no harm.â
For a moment I despised myself saying this. If the squire should choose to punish or dimiss Polly Milroy for