CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
THE MAN OF SUSPICION.
There was a good deal of inquiry made about the houghing of Squire Winthorpe's horses, and there was a great deal of excitement before the poor beasts were skinned, for their hides to go to town to the tanyard and their carcasses were carted away.
People came from miles in all directions, including all the men who were at work for Mr Marston--every one to stand and stare at the poor dead beasts and say nothing.
Small farmers, fen-men, people from the town, folk from the shore where the cockle-beds lay, and the fisher-people who were supposed to live upon very little fish and a great deal of smuggling.
Even Dave and John Warren punted themselves over, both looking yellow and thin, and so weak that they could hardly manage their poles; and they too stared, the former frowning at the bull and shaking his head at the horses, but wiping away a weak tear as he stood by the cow.
"Many's the drop of good fresh milk the missus has given me from her, Mester Dick," he said with a sigh; "and now theer's no cow, no milk, no nothing for a poor sick man.

Hey, bud the ager's a sad thing when you hev it bad as this." There was a visit from a couple of magistrates, who asked a great many questions, and left behind them a squinting constable, who took very bad snuff, and annoyed Dick by looking at him suspiciously, as if he believed him to be the cause of all the mischief.

This man stopped in the village at a cottage next to Hickathrift's, from which place he made little journeys in all directions, evidently full of the belief that he was going to discover the people who did all this mischief in the neighbourhood.
This constable's name was Thorpeley, and he did a great deal of business with a brass box and a short black clay-pipe, in which he smoked short black tobacco.
"I don't know," said Dick one day as he stood with his arms folded, leaning upon Solomon, talking to Tom Tallington and staring at Thorpeley the constable, who was leaning against a post smoking and staring with one eye at the fen, while with the other he watched the group of three in the Toft farm-yard.
"Well, I'm sure I don't," said Tom.

"He never goes over to the town to buy any." "And Hicky says nobody fetches any for him, but he always seems to have plenty though he hasn't any luggage or box or anything." "No; I saw him come," said Tom.

"He only had a small bundle in a red handkerchief!" "And he keeps on smoking from morning till night." "And watching you!" "Yes.