“There’s always a lot of talk when folks die sudden,” he went on, in a sententious tone.  “It was as plain as the nose on your face that the Colonel, poor chap, ’ad ’ad what they called shell-shock.  I’d heard ’im a-talking aloud to ’isself many a time.  ’E was a-weary of life ’e was.  So ’tis plain ’e just thought ’e’d put an end to it, like many a better man afore ’im.”

And then the youth said something that rather surprised himself, but his mind had been working while the other had been talking.

“Did anyone say different?” was his question and the other answered in a curious tone:  “Now you’re askin’!  Yes, there was some folk as did say different.  They argued that the Colonel never took the pizen knowingly.  ’E was very keen over terriers—­we bred ’em.  The best of ’em, a grand sire, was the very spit of that little dawg sitting up on that there bench.  Colonel bred ’em for profit, not pleasure.  Mrs. Crofton, she ’ated ’em, and she lost no time either in getting rid of ’em after ’e was gone.  They got on ’er nerves, same as ’e’d done.  She give the best—­prize-winner ’e was—­to the Crowner as tried the corpse.  ’E’d known ’em both—­was a bit sweet on ’er ’isself.”

The youth laughed discordantly.  “Ho!  Ho!  She’s that sort, is she?”

But the other spoke up at once with a touch of sharpness in his voice.

“She’s a good sort to them as be’aves themselves, my lad.  She give me a good present.  Got me a good, new soft place, too, that’s where I’m going to-morrer.  I’m ’ere to oblige ’er, that’s what I am—­just to put you, young man, in the way of things.  Look sharp, please ’er, mind your manners, and you may end better off than you know!”

The lad looked at the speaker with a gleam of rather hungry curiosity in his lack-lustre eyes.

“Mark my words!  Your missus won’t be a widder long.  Ever ’eard of a Major Radmore?”

The speaker did not notice that the little boy sitting on the bench stiffened unconsciously.

“Major Radmore?” repeated the listener.  “Folk in Beechfield did know a chap called Radmore.  Lives in Australia, he does.  He sent home some money for a village club ’e did, but nothing ’as been done about it yet.  Some do say old Tosswill’s sticking to the cash—­a gent as what they calls trustee of it all.  But then who’d trust anyone with a load o’ money?  The chap I’m thinking of used to live at Tosswill’s a matter of ten years ago.”

“Then ’tis the same one!” exclaimed the other eagerly, “and, if so, you’ll not lack good things.  Likely as not the Major’s your future master.  ’E’s got plenty, and a generous soul too.  Gave me a present last year when he was a stopping at Fildy Fe Manor.  The Major, ’e bought one of our dawgs, and I sent it off for ’im to Old Place, Beechfield, damn me if I don’t remember it now—­name of Tosswill too.”  He stopped short, and then, as if he had thought better of what he was going to say, he observed musingly:  “Some says Jack Piper’s a blabber—­but they don’t know me!  But one thing I’ll tell you.  The’re two after the Missus, for all the Colonel’s ’ardly cold, so to speak, but I put my money on the dark one.”