No one quite believed it--it was a tradition at third hand, and Peter
Fogarty's cousin, Jim Redmond's aunt, was easy of faith;--Jim, it was
presumed, not very accurate in narration, and Peter, not much better.
Though, however, it was not actually 'intelligence,' it was a startling
thesis. And though some raised their brows and smiled darkly, and shook
their heads, the whole town certainly pricked their ears at it. And not
a man met another without 'Well! anything more? You've heard the report,
Sir--eh?'
It was not till Doctor Toole came out of town, early that day, that the
sensation began in earnest.
'There could be no doubt about it--'twas a wonderful strange thing
certainly. After so long a time--and so well preserved too.'
'_What_ was it--what _is_ it?'
'Why, Charles Nutter's corpse is found, Sir!'
'Corpse--hey!'
'So Toole says. Hollo! Toole--Doctor Toole--I say. Here's Mr. Slowe
hasn't heard about poor Nutter.'
'Ho! neighbour Slowe--give you good-day, Sir--not heard it? By Jove,
Sir--poor Nutter!--'tis true--his body's found--picked up this morning,
just at sunrise, by two Dunleary fishermen, off Bullock.
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