ighbourhood during the
day. The station was Redfield, and Throckham was three miles beyond it.

At Redfield a coachman with a dogcart awaited Hewitt--only one
gentleman having been expected, as the man explained, in offering to
give either of us the reins. But Hewitt wished to talk to the coachman,
and I willingly took the back seat, understanding very well that my
friend would get better to work if he first had as many of the facts as
possible from a calm informant before discussing them with the dead
man's relations, probably confused and distracted with their natural
emotions.

The coachman was a civil and intelligent fellow, and he gave Hewitt all
he knew of the case with perfect clearness, as I could very well hear.

"It isn't much I can tell you, sir," he said, "beyond what I expect you
know. I suppose you didn't know Mr. Peytral, my master, that's dead?"

"No. But he was a foreigner, I suppose--French, from the name."

"Well, no, sir," the coachman replied, thoughtfully; "not French
exactly, I think, though sometimes he talked French to the mistress.
They came from somewhere in the West Indies, I believe, and there's a
trifle of--well, of dark blood in 'em, sir, I should think; though, of
course, it ain't for me to say."

"Yes--there are many such families in the French West Indies. Did you
ever hear of Alexandre Dumas?"

"No, sir, can't say I did."

"Well, he was a very great Frenchman indeed, but he had as much 'dark
blood' as your master had--probably more; and it came from the West
Indies, too. But go on."

"Mr. Peytral, you must understand, sir, has lived here a year or
two--I've only been with him nine months. He talked English always--as
good as you or me; and he was always called _Mr._ Peytral--not Monsieur,
or Signor, or any o' them foreign titles. I think he was naturalised.
Mrs. Peytral, she's an invalid--came here an invalid, I'm told. She
never comes out of her bedroom 'cept on an invalid couch, which is
carried. Miss Claire, she's the daughter, an' the only one, and she was
hoping you'd ha' been down last night, sir, by the last train. She's in
an awful state, as you may expect, sir."

"Naturally, to lose her father in such a terrible way."

"Yes, sir, but it's wuss than that even, for her. You see, this Mr.
Bowmore, that they've took up, he's been sort of keepin' company with
Miss Claire for some time, an' there's no doubt she was very fond of
him. That makes it pretty bad for her, tak