"And a queer
one, too! Odd thing, sir, that our old squire, and now the young one,
should both have met their deaths in what you might term violent
fashion."
"Accident--in both cases," remarked Collingwood.
The landlord nodded his head--and then shook it in a manner which seemed
to indicate that while he agreed with this proposition in one respect he
entertained some sort of doubt about it in others.
"Ay, well!" he answered. "Of course, a mill chimney falling, without
notice, as it were, and a bridge giving way--them's accidents, to be
sure. But it's a very strange thing about this foot-bridge, up yonder at
the Grange--very strange indeed! There's queer talk about it, already."
"What sort of talk?" asked Collingwood. Ever since the old woodman had
come up to him and Pratt, as they stood looking at the foot-bridge, he
had been aware of a curious sense of mystery, and the landlord's remark
tended to deepen it. "What are people talking about?"
"Nay--it's only one or two," replied the landlord. "There's been two men
in here since the affair happened that crossed that bridge Friday
afternoon--and both of 'em big, heavy men. According to what one can
learn that there bridge wasn't used much by the Grange people--it led to
nowhere in particular for them. But there is a right of way across that
part of the park, and these two men as I'm speaking of--they made use of
it on Friday--getting towards dark.
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