Mr. Thrower's Hammer

Good evening. This is Crime Classics. I am Thomas Highland. I'm going to tell you another true crime story. Listen. In the county of Suffolk, the willow grows green, and there was once a smithy. His name was Edmund Thore.

He was a powerful man who could make the anvil shudder and spring sparks into shadows cast by the willow. He made horseshoes, he mended scullery ware, he made hammers to drive nails, to mend shoes, to bludgeon people to death.

And tonight, my report to you on the dread event surrounding Mr. Throwers' hammer. Crime classics. A series of true crime stories taken from the records and newspapers of every land from every time. Your host each week, Mr. Thomas Highland, connoisseur of crime, student of violence, teller of murders. Now once again, Thomas Highland.

I should like to pose a conundrum. Of course I already know its answer, but it took history eleven years to solve it. But was this puzzle solved? Well, perhaps. It has some interesting ingredients. A man hung for stealing a heifer, a gypsy, a chap who cutling for a living, a young woman dead across a gooseberry bush, and the mending of a shoe on a wet day. Now,

was ever a puzzle so tweaking? It happened in 1793, and there are two versions as to how it started. Version 1, seen, shot-ford heath in waybred, suffered, and a man is driving sheep to town.

Oh, no! Enough of could be steep! Under town with us! Oh! Oh! Rest your flock of wire, Shepherd! We've some ruby red wine! Hey, wine would be clever! Tilt the skin for him, Gypsy! Give the Shepherd a drink!