On one occasion, Edward took Edward Jr to a meeting with his bailiff in Chawton village. Mr Seward was an old man in failing health, but very proud. He lived with his wife in a broad house in the centre of the village, opposite to the toll house and overlooking the duck pond. Edward was aware that this man did not have the energy to carry out hard labour any longer but still sought his advice out of respect.

‘Oh yes, ‘tis true. This ‘ere house used to be an inn once upon a time.’ He shuffled in his chair to get comfortable. ‘But the travellers who came were a raucous lot and apt to get into fights. One man was beaten ‘bout the head ‘til he had no sense, and another killed by an iron pole. Or so I’m told…’ he finished, passing the responsibility for any nightmares on to the hand-me-down tale.

Edward Jr. was on his best behaviour and pretended to be unconcerned. He made a polite remark to assure Mrs Seward he was not upset and made no mention of the story when he walked back up the lane with his father. But considering the murders were the only thing that the rest of the children could talk about the next day, he had clearly shared the secret with them, surely telling it with the same relish it had been told to him.