You might take it for a small cottage garden long deserted, but
that it lies away from the village and bears no trace of cultivation. It
is at no great distance from the road, and is part of what is there
called a moor, in other words, a rough upland pasture cut up into largish
fields.
'Why is this little bit hedged off so?' I asked, and John Hill (whose
answer I cannot represent as perfectly as I should like) was not at
fault. 'That's what we call Martin's Close, sir: 'tes a curious thing
'bout that bit of land, sir: goes by the name of Martin's Close, sir.
M-a-r-t-i-n Martin. Beg pardon, sir, did Rector tell you to make inquiry
of me 'bout that, sir?' 'Yes, he did.' 'Ah, I thought so much, sir. I was
tell'n Rector 'bout that last week, and he was very much interested. It
'pears there's a murderer buried there, sir, by the name of Martin. Old
Samuel Saunders, that formerly lived yurr at what we call South-town,
sir, he had a long tale 'bout that, sir: terrible murder done 'pon a
young woman, sir. Cut her throat and cast her in the water down yurr.'
'Was he hung for it?' 'Yes, sir, he was hung just up yurr on the roadway,
by what I've 'eard, on the Holy Innocents' Day, many 'undred years ago,
by the man that went by the name of the bloody judge: terrible red and
bloody, I've 'eard.
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