CHAPTER X.

THE INQUEST.

"THAT'S two geese lost this spring," observed one of the men next morning, as the injured bird breathed her last under his hand. "Warn't the governor mad!"

And so he was. He cursed, he swore, he raged; he would have stamped, had not his infirmity prevented it. Above all, he felt deeply injured that his gout prevented him from going out to see after things himself; for when he used to be about, such casualties never happened. Being tied to his chair, however, and having now one hand bad, in addition to his feet, he could use nothing more violent than his tongue.

And at length, the men, having listened as long as they thought necessary, to his stream of abuse, carried out the goose to execute their mournful duty.

Left to himself, Farmer Bluff gradually cooled down; and as he cooled, certain words of Hal's came back to mind. This gout, Hal had said, was of his own seeking. If so, it was his own fault that he had lost the geese. Farmer Bluff instinctively reached out his sound hand for the silver mug, and having drained it of its contents, fell into a brown study.

In the midst of his reflections, he heard a sudden tap against the window at his back, and looking round, he saw Hal's face pressed against the glass. The boy nodded; so did the bailiff—in spite of his grumps; and Hal swung himself off to ring at the bell, sitting down in the porch to wait.

Elspeth was more astonished than ever, on taking her usual peep through the slit window.

"Well! If you ain't layin' yourself open to hear a lot of language that ain't fit for the ears of the likes o' you!" exclaimed she, as she opened the door. "The master's that mad about the goose, that he's done nothing but swear ever since they brought her in."

Hal was already on his feet—or rather, his crutches.

"Never mind," said he. "It won't hurt me if he swears ever so. It's not what goes in at your ears that defiles you, you know, but what comes out of your mouth; because that shows what's in your heart."

So Hal went in, and was announced as before—"The young Squire, sir!"

Farmer Bluff was looking towards the door in expectation. His features relaxed on sight of the boy's cheery face.

Hal wished him "good morning."

"Left hand," said he, as his young master swung himself across to shake hands. The right arm was suspended from his neck in a large checked handkerchief.

Hal looked serious. "Is that gout too, Mr. Bluff?" asked he, standing in front of him, and eyeing the bandaged arm.

Farmer Bluff nodded.

"Ah! Young master," said he; "you didn't know what a plaguesome thing it was, once it got hold of your system; did you now? It couldn't be satisfied with getting me off my legs, but it must disable my knife-hand. It'll have the fork one next, I'll be bound; and then there 'll be a pair of 'em. A quadruped of gout!"

He looked rather proud over this joke. It wasn't many he made when he had gout.

But Hal stood silent.

"I'm disappointed," said he. "I expected to find you better; and instead of that, you're worse." And he went and sat down on a chair opposite—the same one he had occupied on his first visit—looking perplexed and grieved. Presently he said,—"It's that mug, Mr. Bluff. I'm sure of that. Have you thought about it any more?"

"Why, no," returned the bailiff; "not much. I can't say I have. I've thought more about the goose, a long chalk."

"Yes; that was a pity," said Hal sympathetically. "I was very sorry for the poor thing."

"Two broods lost in one year," said Farmer Bluff, getting on his moody expression again. "More than a man like me can afford to lose. Now, if I'd been about—"

"There you are again," put in Hal. "If you will have gout—"

"It's all those men," continued the old fellow wrathfully. "They're so—" Farmer Bluff pulled up suddenly, before he added "careless." He was going to throw in one of his swearing expressions, to give weight to the word; but he fortunately recollected Hal in time, and checked himself.

"Did they find out what she died of?" asked Hal.

"Of a knife in her throat, of course," laughed the old bailiff grimly.

"But what was the matter first, I mean," explained Hal.

Farmer Bluff shook his head. "They brought her in to me," said he; "and I couldn't see, except that she was dying pretty fast. So I told 'em to put an end to it."

"You'll have an inquest, won't you?" said Hal presently.

Farmer Bluff laughed outright. "An inquest on a goose!" roared he. "Upon my soul, young master, you're an original; though, when you come to look at it, half the inquests are on geese. He! he!—" And he laughed again at his own wit.

But Hal was quite in earnest. To him there was nothing funny in it at all. "There always is a post-mortem," said he seriously, "when anybody dies without the doctor being able to tell the cause of death. I think that if I were you, I should like to know why that goose died. It might enable you to prevent any more of them dying the same way, you know. Perhaps it was something in the food."

Farmer Bluff shook his head. "I daresay it's been 'post-mortemed' for somebody's dinner by now," said he, with grim humour. "I told 'em to cut her throat and put her underground; but such as them don't often get the chance to taste goose flesh. I'll be bound she's twirling on the spit by now."

After a little more talk, Hal took his crutches. "Well," said he, "I must wish you 'good morning,' Mr. Bluff; and as you've got the gout in your right arm I won't trouble you to shake hands. But I'd have it out of there, if I were you, feet and all. You really must think about that mug this time; now, won't you? I'm certain it's the mug that does the mischief; because, you see, you're proud of it, and directly we're proud of anything, we forget all the rest. But you won't have a goose to put it out of your head this time?"

Farmer Bluff replied that he "hoped to goodness not."

And Hal let himself out.

That evening at dinner,—for the boys always enjoyed the privilege of dining with their grandfather in the holidays,—the subject of the goose came up, and Hal told what he knew of its fate.

"Upon my word," remarked the Squire, after hearing how Hal had aired his ideas about the post-mortem, "you were right too; and if I had known it, the bird should not have been put out of the way in that slip-shod fashion. As it is, the thing shall be looked into."

"Your bailiff is guilty of allowing the consumption of unwholesome food," observed young Grantley, who had had accepted the Squire's pressing invitation to make the Manor House his home whilst his pencil was busy in the neighbourhood. "It is to be hoped the 'fortunate' family will reap no disastrous effects."

"Such a thing might have very serious consequences," added Hal's mother, who was very much concerned.

Finally, after due deliberation, the Squire gave orders that some one should at once be sent to ascertain the name of the man to whom the fate of the goose had been intrusted; and that having done this, the messenger should at once proceed to the man's cottage, and learn what had become of the stricken bird's remains.

It was quite late in the evening when at length a servant came to say that Hobbs—the man who had gone—was waiting in the hall.

The boys' bedtime was already long past, but they had begged to sit up a little longer, and they now all followed their grandfather out to hear the result of the investigations.

Hobb's account, however, although it quieted all anxiety with regard to the meal afforded to the Grig family, only involved in further mystery the cause of the goose's death.

Mrs. Grig, on being questioned, had reported that when plucking it ready for trussing, she had discovered a great black bruise upon its breast, and that upon further examination she had found the breast-bone to be broken. As to the wholesomeness of the flesh, however, she was ready to affirm before anybody that a sweeter bird never came from the poulterer's,—although "it wasn't quite in prime condition, not being in the fatting season." She had finished up by giving it as her opinion that there was no doubt about death having been due to accident rather than disease.

"There was one item rayther cur'ous 'bout the information as I got, sir," said Hobbs finally. "When old Jaggers went home to he's breakfast at the stroke of eight that morning, there was three eggs in the old white goose's nest, and two in the speckled's, as stood nighest it. But when he comed back, blest if there hadn't out o' each nest disappeared one egg; so's to leave no more'n two in one, and one in t'other," repeated Hobbs, looking round about upon his hearers to make sure they followed him. "And depend upon it, that old white goose had had a fight wi' some un as came to steal her egg. Though how the crittur dragged herself right away down to the river, wi' that broken bone, is past all understanding—except that sittin' birds 'll do 'most anything."

"What about the dog Blazer too?" exclaimed young Grantley, who had followed out to hear the news. "Why! That was the first morning I was there sketching. They said the dog was loose too."

"Who said so?" asked the Squire sharply.

"The boy who fetched my chair. And, by the by," exclaimed young Grantley suddenly, "I have it all! That young rascal was down there hiding in the ditch when first I came along; and he got in through hedge in quite a practised fashion."

"Ha!" exclaimed the Squire. "But he didn't bring your chair that way?"

"No; he just used that as a pretext for getting through, and came back with a black eye and a tale about the dog being off the chain; and, having crammed me with that, he offered to go round to the front—"

"Where Blazer could have got at him just the same, if he had really been loose," put in Hal.

"Now that I remember," added Grantley, "when I first came up and caught him in the ditch, he invented a history about rats, for which he professed to get so much a head. He said they stole the eggs; but I guess the young scapegrace himself was the biggest rat of the lot, and had his eye upon the biggest eggs. I should hardly think that rats would tackle a goose's egg."

"There's not a doubt about it but you've found the clue," returned the Squire. "The question to be answered is, Who was the boy?"

Young Grantley shook his head.

"But you put him in your picture, didn't you?" suggested Hal.

The Squire smiled. "Hal thoroughly believes in your power of faithful portraiture," observed he.

Young Grantley laughed. "Yes," said he; "I put him in. I told him to return in an hour or two. He was nearer three. He said he had been home."

"Which way did he go?" asked Hal.

"Towards the riverbank," was the reply; "but then we haven't yet decided who he was. My easel, Squire," he added, "is in Elspeth's charge. I'll run down and fetch the canvas if you like."

"No, no; not the least hurry," returned the Squire; "the morning will do just as well. We will sleep upon the information that you've given us."

The boys begged hard to be allowed to escort young Grantley to the farm at once; but it was getting very late, and their grandfather would not entertain the idea.

"Dame Elspeth wouldn't thank us for curtailing her hours of rest," said he. "She is up betimes, no doubt. To bed, now; and directly after breakfast to-morrow, we will start, and identify the thief."

Finding that there was no appeal, the boys gave in. Will and Sigismund went off to bed in high spirits at the idea of dragging a culprit to justice by means of an artist's sketch; but Hal lingered behind, a minute.

"Grandfather," said he, "what will be done with the boy? Will he go to prison, or what?"

"That depends," replied the Squire. "According to the old proverb, we must catch him first before we cook him. He certainly shall not be let off punishment if we do; you need not fear."

"I meant," replied Hal, "that I don't want him punished. I should fancy that it would harden a boy. I would rather have him talked to."

"Be sure he would remember a good smarting far longer," rejoined his grandfather; "and I should feel myself to blame if I neglected to let him feel the consequence of his bad conduct. Such small beginnings are as the seed-corn in the earth, which bringeth forth some thirtyfold, some sixtyfold, and some an hundredfold. That is equally true of bad, as of good seed. But now be off."

That night Hal went to bed with two sinners on his mind,—Farmer Bluff, with his silver mug and his gout, and the youthful but unknown villain who had murdered the old white goose and robbed her nest.

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