Many times in the intervals of writing I glanced through my open
window across the valley to where the upstanding wing of Friar's Park
jutted above the trees. Strange and terrible ideas flocked to my
mind--ideas which must be carefully excluded from the _Planet_
article. But at last the manuscript was completed and I determined to
walk into the neighboring town, some miles distant, to post it and at
the same time to despatch a code telegram to Inspector Gatton. The
long walk did me good, helping me to clear my mind of morbid vapors;
therefore, my business finished, and immune from suspicion in my
character of a London pedestrian, I set out to obtain that vital
information which I lacked.
A natural taciturnity rendered mine host of the Abbey Inn a difficult
subject for interrogation. Moreover that patriarchal outlook which had
been evidenced in his attitude towards the uncouth Edward Hines
clearly enough deterred him from imparting to me any facts detrimental
to the good name of Upper Crossleys. But on the highroad and just
before entering the outskirts of the little country town, I had
observed an inn which had seemed to be well patronized by the local
folks, and since your typical country tap-room is a clearing-house for
the gossip of the neighborhood, to "The Threshers" I made my way.
The doors had only just been opened; nevertheless as I set my foot
upon the step I met the very gossip that I sought.
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