ctions to Master Busy not to
breathe a word of the gruesome subject to the ladies, nor yet to the
serving-wench; 'twas not a matter fit for women's ears.

Sir Marmaduke then bade his butler push on as far as Acol, to glean
further information about the mysterious event.

That evening he collected all the clothes which had belonged to Lambert,
the smith, and wrapping up the leather wallet with them which contained
the securities, he carried this bundle to the lonely pavilion on the
outskirts of the park.

He was not yet ready to go abroad.

Master Busy returned from his visit to Acol full of what he had seen. He
had been allowed to view the body, and to swear before Squire Boatfield
that he recognized the clothes as being those usually worn by the
mysterious foreigner who used to haunt the woods and park of Acol all
last summer.

Hymn-of-Praise had his full meed of pleasure that evening, and the next
day, too, for Sir Marmaduke seemed never tired of hearing him recount
all the gossip which obtained at Acol and at St. Nicholas: the surmises
as to the motive of the horrible crime, the talk about the stranger and
his doings, the resentment caused by his weird demise, and the
conjectures as to what could have led a miscreant to do away with so
insignificant a personage.

All that day--the second since the crime--Sir Marmaduke still lingered
in Thanet. Prudence whispered urgent counsels that he should go, and yet
he stayed, watching the progress of events with that same morbid and
tenacious curiosity.

And now it was the thought of what folk would say when they heard that
Adam Lambert had disappeared, and was, of a truth, not returning home,
which kept Sir Marmaduke still lingering in England.

That and the inexplicable enigma which ever confronts the searcher of
human motives: the overwhelming desire of the murderer to look once
again upon his victim.

Master Busy had on that second morning brought home the news from Acol,
that Squire Boatfield had caused a rough deal coffin to be made by the
village carpenter at the expense of the county, and that mayhap the
stranger would be laid therein this very afternoon and conveyed down to
Minster, where he would be accorded Christian burial.

Then Sir Marmaduke realized that it would be impossible for him to leave
England until after he had gazed once more on the dead body of the
smith.

After that he would go. He would shake the sand of Thanet from his heels
forever.