Green until the
proofs stood before him.
It chanced that the under-keeper at Trusham was but three year older than
Samuel Borlase himself and a lifelong friend, so Samuel got influenced and
came to view Chawner Green very unfavourable. He found himself in rather a
delicate position then, but his simple rule was to do what he thought his
duty. To look at, Samuel was a big, hard man, rather on the lean side,
with a blue chin and a blue eye, which don't often go together. His brow
was a bit low and his brain didn't move far out of his appointed task; but
a country policeman has a lot of time on his hands, and upon his long
country beats, while his eyes surveyed the scene, Sam's intellects would
turn over affairs and, no doubt, arrive at conclusions about 'em. And his
conclusion about Chawner Green was that he must be a devious bird, else he
wouldn't be so idle. For Samuel held that a chap of five-and-fifty, and
hard as a nut, which Chawner Green was known to be, did ought to do honest
work--an occupation never connected in the public mind with Mr. Green.
There'd been a wedding a bit back along and Chawner's daughter had married
a respectable shopkeeper at a neighbouring town; and Samuel Borlase
reflected rather gloomily that the small shopkeeper was a fish and poultry
merchant--also a seller of game. To his policeman's mind there was a lot
more in that than met the eye; and no doubt the born policeman do see a
lot more in everything than what us everyday people may remark.
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