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IMy memory is a little vague about the events of the days immediately fol-lowing the inquest on Mrs Franklin. There was, of course, the funeral,which I may say was attended by a large number of the curious of StylesSt Mary. It was on that occasion that I was addressed by an old womanwith rheumy eyes and an unpleasant ghoulish manner.
She accosted me just as we were filing out of the cemetery.
‘Remember you, sir, don’t I?’
‘Well – er – possibly …’
She went on, hardly listening to what I said.
‘Twenty years ago and over. When the old lady died up at the Court.
That was the first murder we had at Styles. Won’t be the last, I say. OldMrs Inglethorp, her husband done her in sowe all said. Sure of it we was.’
