"Aye, here's an end to Number Vun, and if we look in the vood yonder,
I fancy we shall see summat o' Number Two. This vay, sir--you can see
the leaves is bloody hereabouts if you look--this vay!" Like one in an
evil dream I followed him in among the trees and was aware that he had
halted again.
"What now--what is it?" I questioned.
"Number Two, sir, and--look yonder, and--by Goles, 'e's dodged me
likewise--burn my neck if 'e ain't!"
As he spoke, Mr. Shrig parted the kindly leaves and I beheld the form
of my servant Clegg, as neat and precise in death as he had ever been
in life.
"Poor lad!" said Mr. Shrig, baring his head. "Ye see, 'e 'appened to
love Nancy Price, sir--the wictim o' Wiciousness yonder, an' 'ere's
the result. Even walets has feelin's--this 'un werry much so!"
"Dead?" I mumbled, feeling myself suddenly faint. "Dead--both?"
"Aye, sir--both! Vich is comin' it a bit too low down on a man an' no
error! To ha' lost both on 'em--crool 'ard I calls it!"
Sick with horror, I was stumbling away from this dreadful place when
Mr. Shrig's voice stayed me.
"'Old 'ard, sir--bide a bit! If the con-clusions as I've drawed is
correct, here should be summat o' yourn."
Turning about, I espied him on his knees, examining the contents of
the dead man's pockets with a methodical precision that revolted me.
"Of mine?" said I, shuddering.
"Your werry own, sir. 'T was one o' the reasons as I brought you
along--I do 'ope Windictiveness here ain't destroyed it--ah, 'ere it
is, Mr.
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