POVERTY'S PRIDE

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

                   CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Twm Beynon was disconcerted the following morning to find Joshua Tucker on his doorstep. He had been wishing for an opportunity, but suddenly he was unsure.

     ‘Morning, Mr Tucker, sir,’ Twm began somewhat nervously. ‘You wanted to see me, sir?’

     The curate’s expression was supercilious. ‘It is my duty, sad duty, as curate of this parish to enquire about the lady found dead on the shore,’ he said pompously. ‘Does anyone know who she is?’

     ‘Come inside, sir,’ Twm invited, thinking fast as to how much he should reveal to the clergymen, since Mr Cedric Trevellian had asked him to be discreet.

     Joshua Tucker stepped past him into the room, and looked around expectantly.

‘I was given to understand that the...remains were lying here in your cottage.’

     ‘They came from the big house before dawn, sir, to take the poor lady back with them.’ Twm told him and then chided himself for the confidence.

     ‘Ah! It is as I was told then,’ the curate said. ‘She was a visitor at Cliff House.’ He shook his head solemnly. ‘Such a tragic accident.’

     Twm frowned. The curate spoke as if it was common knowledge, but few people knew her identity. ‘Who told you, sir, if I may ask?’

     Joshua Tucker lifted a hand languidly. ‘I don’t recall. Someone from the village.’

     If he knew, Twm thought, then why come here asking? A little more gentle probing perhaps.

     ‘Tragic indeed, sir,’ Twm said. ‘But no accident.’

     ‘What?’

     Twm shook his head. ‘Foully done to death, sir. Pushed or rather propelled from the cliff top.’

     ‘What?’

     ‘No doubt about it, sir. The body landed on some rocks, well away from the cliff bottom. She were murdered, sir.’

     Joshua Tucker’s mouth worked like a fish out of water. ‘Preposterous!’ he exclaimed at last. ‘You are deliberately making more of this accident than your remit as watchman allows.’

     ‘It’s also the opinion of Mr Cedric and Mr Jowett, sir,’ Twm asserted. ‘Mr Cedric has directed me to investigate.’

     Joshua Tucker looked supercilious again. ‘I doubt you have the authority, let alone the wits for such an undertaking.’

     ‘I’ve made a start already, sir,’ Twm said. ‘There’s a murdering footpad on the loose in the area. He attacked young Rosalind up at the big house. Looks like he’s struck again.’

     ‘Absurd! You’re talking nonsense, man.’

     ‘I was hoping you could help, sir.’

     ‘What?’ The curate looked disconcerted.

     ‘I was wondering if you saw anything unusual when you were walking on the cliff path yesterday morning.’

     ‘I did not go out walking yesterday morning,’ Joshua Tucker said quickly. ‘I was at the rectory all day.’

     ‘The boy who found the body saw you, sir.’

     ‘The young wretch is lying!’ Joshua Tucker shouted, his face turning dark red. ‘Or you have paid him to lie.’

     ‘I assure you, sir, I...’

     The curate reached forward and grabbed at Twm’s coat lapels, almost lifting the smaller man’s feet clear of the floor.

     ‘Now you listen to me,’ Joshua Tucker snarled. ‘You will not drag me into this. Sir Leopold will hear of this infamy, I warn you.’

     ‘But the boy said...’ Twm persisted.

     ‘Damn you!’

Without warning Joshua Tucker struck a blow to Twm’s face, sending him reeling backwards where he collided with the table, and then went sprawling on his back.

‘Be warned, watchman,’ the curate hissed down at him. ‘Sir Leopold is my...benefactor. If you spread any more of these scandalous lies he will drive you from the village.’

With that he strode from the cottage.

Twm lay there a moment feeling dazed. He was aware that someone else had entered the cottage.

‘What has bothered yon curate?’ Daisy Bream asked. ‘His look is blacker than a chimney sweep’s.’ Then she saw him spread out on the floor. ‘Twm! Whatever are you doing?’

‘Investigating,’ Twm gasped as he struggled to his feet. ‘And I think I know more now than I did ten minutes ago.’