Evening star., 1924-03-14

CURED in a district the first thing
to do is to make yourself acquainted
with the folk who live in that dis
trict, and to consider whether they
are likely or not to have had any
concern with what has happened
for, as Styler never wearied of tell
ing himself, you never knew who
anybody is until you have turned
too careful about small details. His
ears had pricked on hearing of this
young widow and this old gentleman;
they, after all, were not native born
of Lynne, and they must be seen to.
He found the Warren to be of an
eminently commonplace, snug, thor
oughly respectable nature. 1t was a
modern, stone-buiit houSe-one of
those newfashioned erections now so
fashionable in the southern counties,
evidently built by some person who
had designed it for a resort after a
retirement from the pursuit of a
many gables and more chimneys, and
odd windows, and hooks and corners,
a timbered front, and much mural or
namentation of ivy and clematis and
Virginia creeper; its lawns were trim
and its gardens formal; it was just
the sort of place in which you would
expect to find the course of life run
with great smoothness, and have a
perfectly cooked dinner served up
punctually at 1880 to the minute. A
neat maid was talking to the butch
er's boy at side gate as Styler
passed, he knew by the dilated eyes
of both that their subject of conver-
sation was the event of the night.
But of the maids mistress he saw
nothing at that time.
The other object of his attention
nature to the Warren. 1t stood liter
ally in the woods, in Il clearing, and
Styler, who had drawn near to it by
boldly forsaking the trodden ways
l..
to the thickets, was able to approach
it under cover of the fresh, luxuriant
foliage which q week of warm spring
weather had brought into being. He
heard vocal sounds-gentle, pastoral
sounds--as he crept up behind a
privet hedge which rirged in the
cottage garden. And taking good
care to make no sound himself, he
peered through the interstices of the
glossy LEAKAGE, and saw, not many
yards away, an elderly gentleman,
who was engaged in planting cab
bages. and was enlivening his task
with snatches of CHEEKY song.
He was a nice-looking old gentle
man this-as innocent looking an old
party as you could come across in
long days march, affirmed Styler
communing with himself after his
usual fashion. Just then Styler could
back view of pair of comfortable,
roomy, shepherds plaid trousers, a
gayly striped shirt, a pair of still
gayer silk braces and the back of a
big panama hat The person inside
of all these things had his back to the
hedgerow and to the watcher con-
cealed behind 1t, and his face to the
cottage at the other side of the gar
den. He had rush basket on one
side of him, filled with cabbage
plants; in his right hand he carried
an instrument which gardeners call
a dibble; with this dibble he made
holes in the earth at regular inter-
yals; when he had made a dozen or
SO of these holes he carefully inserted
a cabbage plant in each hole and with
equal care earthed it up. And as he
, occupied himself in, this way ne sang
snatches of old ditties of rural and
voice, q little cracked. thought Styler,
but still very tuneful.
"Quiet, peaceful old duffer, this"
soliloquized the spy. Don't seem to
cass, anyway. The idea, now, of a
chap planting cabbages or turnips or
onions, or whatever those things are,
in such what you might call serene
happened at his very door! Wonder
full, call it,! I reckon this old party
is a philosopher"
He turned his attention from the
old party to the .e old party's cottage:
bungalow, half brick, half plaster,
with veranda under projecting
caves and a pergola of rambler roses
running from the door to the gate.
Through an open window Styler got
glimpse of pleasant interior-pic-
lures, books, q table laid with q
white cloth, Of silver and glass gleam-
ing on the linen. And just as he
had seen that, a woman of the char
lady variety came to the door and
called to the cabbage planter.
your dinners ready, Mr.. Pegge,"
she announced. SHALL 7 draw some
ale, sir?'
IAN excellent suggestion, Mrs.
Ridd," replied Mr.. Pegge, straighteh-
ing himself and moving off to the
cottage. "A jug full, ma'am-with q
fne head on it, il you please"
The good gentleman had only Just
got into his doorway when Styler saw
omething which interested him much
more than anything he had seen up
to that time. Just within the hedge
row, exactly opposite the spot where
on he was kneeling with his eye to
a convenient break in the foliage,
was a garden roller. On that garden
. roller Mr.. Pegge had carelessly cast
his jacket. And from the inside
pocket of the jacket projected a we'll
worn leather pocketbook, evidently
| full Of papers.
CONTINUED in Tomorrow's Star.)