The Case of the Pool of Blood in the Pastors Study | Page 5

to play quietly in the corner by the hearth.
There was nothing else spoken of wherever two or three met together
throughout the village except this dreadful, unexplainable thing that
had happened in the rectory. The little village inn was full to
overflowing and the hum of voices within was like the noise of an
excited beehive. Everyone had some new explanation, some new guess,
and it was not until the notary arrived, looking even more important
than usual, that silence fell upon the excited throng. But the
expectations aroused by his coming were not fulfilled. The notary knew
no more than the others although he had been one of the searchers in
the rectory. But he was in no haste to disclose his ignorance, and sat
wrapped in a dignified silence until some one found courage to
question him.
"Was there nothing stolen?" he was asked.
"No, nothing as far as we can tell yet. But if it was the gypsies --as may
be likely--they are content with so little that it would not be noticed."
"Gypsies?" exclaimed one man scornfully. "It doesn't have to be
gypsies, we've got enough tramps and vagabonds of our own. Didn't
they kill the pedlar for the sake of a bag of tobacco, and old Katiza for a
couple of hens?"
"Why do you rake up things that happened twenty years ago?" cried
another over the table. "You'd better tell us rather who killed Red Betty,
and pulled Janos, the smith's farm hand, down into the swamp?"

"Yes, or who cut the bridge supports, when the brook was in flood, so
that two good cows broke through and drowned?"
"Yes, indeed, if we only knew what band of robbers and villains it is
that is ravaging our village."
"And they haven't stopped yet, evidently."
"This is the worst misfortune of all! What will our poor do now that
they have murdered our good pastor, who cared for us all like a father?"
"He gave all he had to the poor, he kept nothing for himself."
"Yes, indeed, that's how it was. And now we can't even give this good
man Christian burial."
"Shepherd Janci knew this morning early that we were going to have a
new pastor," whispered the landlord in the notary's ear. The latter
looked up astonished. "Who said so?" he asked.
"My boy Ferenz, who went to fetch him about seven o'clock. One of
my cows was sick."
Ferenz was sent for and told his story. The men listened with great
interest, and the smith, a broad-shouldered elderly man, was
particularly eager to hear, as he had always believed in the shepherd's
power of second sight. The tailor, who was more modern-minded,
laughed and made his jokes at this. But the smith laid one mighty hand
on the other's shoulder, almost crushing the tailor's slight form under its
weight, and said gravely: "Friend, do you be silent in this matter.
You've come from other parts and you do not know of things that have
happened here in days gone by. Janci can do more than take care of his
sheep. One day, when my little girl was playing in the street, he said to
me, 'Have a care of Maruschka, smith!' and three days later the child
was dead. The evening before Red Betty was murdered he saw her in a
vision lying in a coffin in front of her door. He told it to the sexton,
whom he met in the fields; and next morning they found Betty dead.
And there are many more things that I could tell you, but what's the use;

when a man won't believe it's only lost talk to try to make him. But one
thing you should know: when Janci stares ahead of him without seeing
what's in front of him, then the whole village begins to wonder what's
going to happen, for Janci knows far more than all the rest of us put
together."
The smith's grave, deep voice filled the room and the others listened in
a silence that gave assent to his words. He had scarcely finished
speaking, however, when there was a noise of galloping hoofs and
rapidly rolling wagon wheels. A tall brake drawn by four handsome
horses dashed past in a whirlwind.
"It's the Count--the Count and the district judge," said the landlord in a
tone of respect. The notary made a grab at his hat and umbrella and
hurried from the room. "That shows how much they thought of our
pastor," continued the landlord proudly. "For the Count himself has
come and with four horses, too, to get here the more quickly. His
Reverence was a great friend of the Countess."
"They didn't make so much fuss over the pedlar and Betty," murmured
the cobbler, who suffered from