" 'Twas was early mornin'," Dym said, "just about the same time of day as it is now. Boye here got up to some tricks, and I could hear he was in the Ring, so I went to see what 'twas so moithered him.
"Well now, ge'men, what did I see but two other ge'men, a-wearin' coats almost like yours, sir"-he pointed at Hoare with his chin-"a-layin' on their bellies, there… and there, dead as the stones around 'em, in front of that there stone in middle of Circle. I didn't need to touch 'em none to know that, for I could see, plain as plain, they didn' 'a' but one 'ead between 'em. And that 'un 'ad been a-chopped off. It was like two butchers come up behind 'em like they was oxen for the slaughterin' and dopped 'em in back of their 'eads. And so down they'd went, a-dumpin' their blood all over the green in Circle, and the flowers a-layin' scattered roundabout, all in their garlands."
"Where was the other head?" Hoare asked.
"Not to be seen, sir," the shepherd answered through Rabbett.
"Their hats?" Thoday asked.
"Not to be seen, sir."
"Their pockets?"
Dym glowered, stubborn as one of his sheep. Then, as if he realized that these men were not accusing him of looting the dead, he relaxed again.
"Their pockets was turned out, sir, if that's what you mean. And their shoes was gone, too. Wouldn't 'a' been first time that green's drunk 'uman blood, I'll warrant." He shook his head. "Nay. You ask Mye Dabbleworth about that; she be wise enough for all of us."
Mye Dabbleworth, Dym explained, was a wisewoman who collected greens by night-moonlit nights especially, like the nights this week-and preferably there in the Circle.
"She coom all the way up from her darter's house in Dorchester. She used to live in Winterbourne over hill, but when Squire enclosed commons the folk was all evicted. Not that dere was that many…"
Hoare let Dym maunder on. He had found that one could never tell when a compulsive talker would drop a gem instead of a turgidity. But Hoare got no more good from Dym, nor apparently did Thoday, so they retraced their steps along the path and over the stiles to the Nine Stones Circle.
Once there, Thoday began to range the heavily trodden enclosure at an awkward stooping canter, grumbling to himself every so often as he went, while Hoare and Rabbett watched. Hoare almost thought to hear him snuffle as if he were a true sleuth, a bloodhound. He picked up some of the wilted garlands, sniffed them, grunted in a puzzled way, dropped them. He examined several of the stones closely, paying particular attention to the flat-topped ashlar that stood waist-high in the center of the ring, left the Circle to trot as far as the lane where their chaise and its driver still stood, inspected the ruts around the chaise, and returned inside the ring of watching stones. There he walked more cautiously around the enormous double bloodstain before the ashlar.
"It's a disgrace," Thoday declared, "how the men who took the bodies to Dorchester trampled the ground hereabouts. The tracks of their great feet are all over the Circle. They might have been trying to destroy the evidence."
If they were Frobisher minions and Sir Thomas was what Hoare thought he might just be, they might well have been doing precisely that.
"But it's plain as the Great Charter," Thoday declared. "The carriage was held up somewhere east of here, possibly in Dorchester, and highjacked with its passengers. The man-thieves numbered at least a dozen; we can hardly call them kidnappers, can we, in light of their captives' mature years?
No more than jesting Pilate did Thoday pause for answer, but went on, "The victims' arms were bound, and they were brought here. They were hauled out of the chaise here; their shoes were removed here; they were unbound and clubbed from behind like vermin in a drive as they attempted to escape-that way. Shots were fired. One ball struck someone sitting on the chaise-the criminals' driver, I should suppose.
"The killers then beheaded the bodies, robbed them, and clambered into the chaise with their dead companion. They drove off westward, having parted company with the lone horseman.
"That is all the scene of the crime can tell us. It is peculiar, by the by, that though the greensward is badly torn up by human footprints, only a few participants actually stepped in the blood. As you can see, the effusion was considerable."
"I certainly would want to avoid wading about in blood," Hoare murmured.
"Perhaps, sir. Perhaps not." Thoday's voice was mildly scornful. "But a party of some ten or fifteen persons would have had some difficulty in dodging pools of that size. Shall we go, sir?"
"I don't understand how you discovered so much so quickly, Mr. Thoday," Rabbett said timidly. He accented the first syllable of the gunner's name.
"Elementary," Thoday said. "And it is Thoday, if you please, as in today. Moreover, one does not pronounce the full diphthong. But to answer your implied question, I shall show you how I did it. You will then tell me how obvious it was. Come." Thoday led the way out of the Ring.
"As you can see, the tracks of our chaise overlie those of the Captains' vehicle, and the latter-which are deeper than ours, there having been more men in it than would have made for distant travel in any comfort-extend beyond it. Their chaise stood long enough in one place for its wheels to have sunk in slightly but then moved a short distance forward, perhaps when the horses were startled by the shooting of their driver. By then, however, all the passengers had disembarked."
"You deduced that because the ruts are shallower," Hoare said.
"How obvious!" Rabbett declared.
"Indeed," Thoday said. "Excellent, Captain Hoare. Very good, sir. But, actually, you can see the confused tracks of at least four men as they stepped out of the vehicle. Now the Captains walked, at pistol-point, I presume, into the center of the Circle. They were forced to their knees- you can see the marks here, if you look closely-and required to remove their shoes."
"Why?" asked Hoare.
"It is impossible to tell, sir, from the tracks alone." Thoday's raised eyebrows reproved Hoare for a childish question.
" 'How do you know?' is what I meant."
Thoday shrugged. "Very seldom can mere tracks reveal motives, sir," he said. "One can only speculate, which we shall do in due course. It may have been a matter of ritual, whereby to go unshod before divinity showed humility and respect. The presence of out-of-season flowers, some of which were plaited into garlands, demonstrates that a rite of some sort was celebrated. There is something that puzzles me about the flowers, however. I wonder…
"But, to continue: the criminals cut the lines binding the Captains' arms-'why' is again a matter for speculation-and urged the prisoners to flee.
"They gave the demoralized brother officers a lead of a second or two. They fired shots, perhaps to speed the victims on their way. One of the shots struck the driver of the death chaise, as the spray of dried blood beside the tracks shows. Then the killers leaped after their prey, competing, I suspect, for first blood, and struck them down. Like vermin, as I said, or, more likely, like sacrifices. Human sacrifices. The rest I have already told you." Thoday folded his arms and stood silent.
"Amazing," said Rabbett.
"Elementary," said Thoday.
"Where do you suppose their chaise is now? And the driver's body?" Hoare asked.
"Bodies, you mean, sir," Thoday said. "For there were two drivers: the original driver from London and the man who replaced him at the reins when the chaise was highjacked."