“There’s been an accident,” Nate lied. “It’s Mr. Collins. We’ve put him on the kitchen table. You will want to steer the children away from him. They might be frightened.”
Alice nodded, and Nate stepped aside to let her in. Holding her babe in her arms, she ushered her on through the parlor and into the rooms beyond. She returned several minutes later and said, “I’ve put them down to sleep. They had a long day at the lake.”
“That’s good,” Nate said, stepping aside so she could get a good look at Collins.
Her hand flew to her mouth as she gasped at the sight of him. “How did this happen?”
“We don’t know,” Magistrate Hunt said. “We found him like this a few minutes ago. But judging from the bloody footsteps outside, he had more than one hostile visitor this afternoon.”
Mrs. Groby fetched a bowl of water and a cloth and began tending to the battered Collins, who could barely open his swollen eyes to look at her.
Nate left the cottage and ran to fetch Dr. Elias. Upon his return, he and Magistrate Hunt waited for the doctor to finish tending to Collins before meeting with him in the front parlor.
“It was a vicious attack,” Dr. Elias said, “but I don’t believe the intent was to kill him. Although his attacker, or attackers, could have done.”
“I agree,” Magistrate Hunt said. “There were plenty of knives in the slaughterhouse. If the attackers wanted to kill Collins, they would have used one of those. This was a beating intended to punish.”
“Do you have any idea who could have done this to him?” Dr. Elias asked the magistrate.
“Well, I would say Groby, but he’s in jail,” Magistrate Hunt said.
“I think I may have an idea,” Nate said, turning to Mrs. Groby. “Do you know what Mr. Collins planned to do today?”
“He were going to collect some of the payments owed to my husband.”
“From Morris and Trent, correct?”
She nodded. “Mr. Hornby, too. Mr. Brown and Mr. Whittle paid my husband what they owed for the month before he…” She squeezed her hands together. “I told Mr. Collins it weren’t a good idea. They wouldn’t pay me on account of my being a woman, and I didn’t think they would take kindly to paying him either.”
Nate glanced at Collins’s motionless body on the settee. “It certainly looks that way,” he said.
“Are you going to arrest them?” Mrs. Groby asked.
“Not without proof, and that would mean waiting for Collins here to wake up and tell us who did this to him.” Magistrate Hunt leaned over Collins and shook his head. “Might be a while before he can talk again.”
“You can’t let them get away with this!” Mrs. Groby said. “You arrested my husband without nowt evidence!”
“Your husband declared his intention to kill a man who was found dead the very next day. I think that’s proof enough.”
One of Mrs. Groby’s children began crying, and she excused herself, only to return seconds later holding her small daughter in herarms. Mrs. Groby soothed the child as tears fell from her own eyes. “What shall I do now?” she said. “Without that money and Mr. Collins’s help, we are doomed.”
Nate glanced at the magistrate, who looked uncomfortable.This isn’t right. Something must be done to protect this woman and her children. What if the attackers return?
*
The Black Horse—awhitewashed building with black beams, a heavy, black wooden door, and a thatched roof—stood at the corner of an otherwise quiet cobblestone street in Braithwaite. Inside, the low-beamed tavern smelled like sweat and ale. It was a small establishment, and Nate and Magistrate Hunt immediately spotted the three culprits sitting at a table drinking pints of ale.
“Gentlemen,” Magistrate Hunt said as he stopped by their table. “May I have a word?”
“Aye, Magistrate,” Morris said. He was the oldest of the four men, aged about five-and-fifty, with a slim build and a sharp, sour face. “What can we do for ye?”
“According to Mrs. Groby, Mr. Collins came to collect Groby’s money from you today. Did you pay up?”
“Why should we pay Collins? We don’t owe him the money,” Trent said. He was a short but powerful man who enjoyed pugilism as a sport. Nate noted a cut on his hand as well as his bruised knuckles.
“He was collecting it on behalf of Mrs. Groby, as you well know,” Magistrate Hunt said. “But you lot didn’t want to pay your debts, so you beat the man half to death.”
“Says who?” Trent said. “We’ve been here all day. Just ask Peterson. He’ll vouch for us.”
