Once upon a time there lived a poor widow woman in Coombe,
with two sons, aged fourteen and sixteen, who worked at a farm
in the village.
She had a lover, a middle-aged man, living at
Woodhay, a carrier who used to go on two or three days each
week with his cart to deliver parcels at Coombe. But he was a
married man, and as he could not marry the widow while his
wife remained alive, it came into his dull Berkshire brain
that the only way out of the difficulty was to murder her, and
to this course the widow probably consented. Accordingly, one
day, he invited or persuaded her to accompany him on his
journey to the remote village, and on the way he got her out
of the cart and led her into a close thicket to show her
something he had discovered there. What he wished to show her
(according to one version of the story) was a populous
hornets' nest, and having got her there he suddenly flung her
against it and made off, leaving the cloud of infuriated
hornets to sting her to death. That night he slept at Coombe,
or stayed till a very late hour at the widow's cottage and
told her what he had done. In telling her he had spoken in
his ordinary voice, but by and by it occurred to him that the
two boys, who were sleeping close by in the living-room, might
have been awake and listening. She assured him that they were
both fast asleep, but he was not satisfied, and said that if
they had heard him he would kill them both, as he had no wish
to swing, and he could not trust them to hold their tongues.
Thereupon they got up and examined the faces of the two boys,
holding a candle over them, and saw that they were in a deep
sleep, as was natural after their long day's hard work on the
farm, and the murderer's fears were set at rest. Yet one of
the boys, the younger, had been wide awake all the time,
listening, trembling with terror, with wide eyes to the
dreadful tale, and only when they first became suspicious
instinct came to his aid and closed his eyes and stilled his
tremors and gave him the appearance of being asleep. Early
next morning, with his terror still on him, he told what he
had heard to his brother, and by and by, unable to keep the
dreadful secret, they related it to someone - a carter or
ploughman on the farm. He in turn told the farmer, who at
once gave information, and in a short time the man and woman
were arrested. In due time they were tried, convicted, and
sentenced to be hanged in the parish where the crime had been
committed.
Everybody was delighted, and Coombe most delighted of all, for
it happened that some of their wise people had been diligently
examining into the matter and had made the discovery that the
woman had been murdered just outside their borders in the
adjoining parish of Inkpen, so that they were going to enjoy
seeing the wicked punished at somebody else's expense.
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