Edward
Henry refuses the flask the appropriate number of times, before allowing that maybe he could take a sip, just to help against the chill of the evening. The lad is naturally talkative - when he is not stunned by fear, that is - and the Port loosens his tongue even more. It takes some considerable effort on Edward's part to steer the conversation in the desired direction, and most importantly to keep it there, since Henry rambles a lot and seems prone to losing the thread mid-sentence. Even so, by the time the two men reach the inn, Edward has gleaned a few pieces of information.
The servants have unanimously diagnosed Mrs. Tubbs with "nervous disposition". According to Elsie Lesser, it is a malady peculiar to the higher class of person, since a servant, no matter how "nervous" would still be expected to earn their living. Henry finds that a little cruel of Elsie and thinks that Mrs. Tubbs is clearly grieving for her husband. She had been, Henry insists, a very reasonable and capable mistress, and only with Mr. Tubbs's disappearance she had collapsed into utter despair. Henry describes her as a woman haunted - pale and trembling. She would walk around the house, looking at the corners of each room, and behind cabinets, searching for something. She would stand at the door of the back garden for hours, as if waiting for Mr. Tubbs to appear from that direction. Then she would sit on her bed and weep. And what is most curious, she seems to have developed a particular dislike for cats - she would not have them in the garden, nor the barn or anywhere near the house.
On the topic of Mrs. Murgatroyd, Henry doesn't have much to say. She has only just arrived, and even though she clearly terrifies him, the guileless footman does not go so far as to suspect her of any ill intentions. He knows her doctor however, and declares him "a good sort" - he had been a local man and even though he had left to study long before Henry had grown into his first pair of breeches, no one in the village has a bad word to say against him.
As for the canal and the lock-keeper, there are plenty of stories of strange lights, and faces in the water, and the sound of wailing - or singing - on dark moonless nights. Henry himself does not admit to having seen anything himself, but he is firmly of the opinion that "here is something unnatural there". Walter Peglar would know more, the young man suspects - since he lives by the canal, he must have witnessed everything there is to witness.
"I'm sorry to say I won't be able to introduce you," Henry concludes. "I doubt I would have much time to go about with Mrs. Murgatroyd in the house. I fear she might prevail upon Mrs. Tubbs to dismiss me if I don't manage to improve myself. But you could go yourself - from the bridge you just take the towpath, it leads directly to Mr. Peglar's hut. I'm sure he would be glad of the company, and even more so if you bring that flask of yours."
It is completely dark by the time they reach The Billy Goat, but there is light in the windows and someone has brought out a lantern by the ruined gate posts. As they enter the inn itself, they are greeted by light, the warmth of a good fire and the smell of a good stew. The impression that they have entered the safety of cozy home is reinforced by Fiona Coleman, who addresses Edward as if he is a naughty child coming late to supper instead of a guest and a paying customer.
"Ah, there you are, God be praised! I was beginning to wonder... And would you look at this, little Henry too!" Henry turns red as the apple form the fairy tales upon being called "little". "And where is your Mr. Calstock? Don't tell me you've managed to lose him already?"
"He will be staying at the house, ma'am. We are here for his dunnage."
