Anxious to help Rupert, and, at his friend's request, Carrington remained at The Big House until the inquest was over, and the burial of the murdered man took place. Both he and the Squire could do little save watch the course of events, as neither of them wished to say anything about the missing will, and neither could suggest any reason why the crime should have been committed. And, indeed, the police were equally unable to solve the problem, since the murder, on the face of it, appeared to be purposeless and the assassin could not be discovered. Inspector Lawson, of Tarhaven, did his best to find a clue, but from first to last was unsuccessful. He did not even know where to look for one, and when the inquest was held, had absolutely no evidence to place before the Coroner and jury. Leigh's murderer had come out of the night and had gone into the night; but why he had come to commit so dastardly a crime, and whither he had gone after achieving his aim, it was wholly impossible to say. The affair was unpleasant, mysterious and uncanny.
Pursuant to the opinion of Dr. Tollart, proceedings in connection with the death were hurried on as speedily as possible. The weather was certainly amazingly hot, as for weeks a powerful sun had been blazing in a cloudless blue sky. The gardens glowed with many-colored flowers, but the growing crops were parched for want of rain, and everywhere in the district people were complaining of the shortage of water. Under the circumstances, and because nothing relevant to the assassin could be discovered, Tollart's advice seemed to be very sensible. Therefore the inquest was held atThe Hendle Armson the day after Mrs. Jabber had discovered her master's corpse, and on that same afternoon the body was placed in the family vault of the Leighs. The trouble had happened so suddenly, the proceedings had been carried through so swiftly, that everything in connection therewith was over and done with before people had time to wholly realize what had taken place.
With regard to the inquest, that necessary function was dispatched very quickly. There was little to be done and little to be said, as no new details were forthcoming concerning the dreadful event. The jury inspected the body at the Vicarage, and then went on toThe Hendle Armsto hear what could be said about the matter. Several reporters from London journals were present, but the interest in the case was more local than general, as there was nothing in it likely to cause a sensation. The general opinion was that some burglar had entered the ill-guarded Vicarage, and that the parson had been struck down while trying to capture the thief. But, as nothing was missing from the house, many scouted this idea, and ascribed the death to a deeper cause. But what that cause might be, this minority were unable to say. Nor did the evidence procurable tend to lighten the darkness which shrouded the crime.
Mrs. Jabber, more respectably dressed than usual, and even more voluble, gave her evidence with many tears and sighs. The old woman had been deeply attached to the vicar, and could not understand why he should have met with so terrible and unexpected a death. She deposed to going to bed at ten o'clock as usual, after taking into the study a glass of milk for her master.
"And there I left him, as happy as a trout in a pond," cried Mrs. Jabber, with tears running down her face, "busy with his books as usual; he, enjoying them the more after having been to see Mrs. Patter, as I'm glad to say is getting better, though it's more nor she deserves, her being such a gossip, and----"
Here the witness was checked by the Coroner, on the ground that she was dealing with matters irrelevant to the inquiry. "Did Mr. Leigh expect anyone to visit him on that night?"
"Lord, bless you, no, sir, and if he did, he wouldn't have mentioned it to me."
"You retired at ten o'clock?"
"Me and Jabber, yes, sir, both being tired with the heat and the day's work."
"And you saw nothing of Mr. Leigh until seven the next morning?"
"Not even the nose of him, sir, and I heard no noise, me being a heavy sleeper as Jabber is, although I don't snore, say what he likes."
In fact Mrs. Jabber's statement did nothing to solve the mystery. She admitted that the bolts and bars at the Vicarage were not what they should be, considering the lonely position of the house. "But, Lord bless you, sir, there ain't never been no trouble with thieves and robbers nohow, as there wasn't anything to tempt them."
"Then you don't think that a burglar----"
"No, I don't, sir. There's nothing missing."
Mrs. Jabber stuck to her tale, and what she said was corroborated by her husband, a meek, trembling little man, wholly dominated by his stronger-minded wife. He had gone to bed at ten o'clock; he had heard nothing during the night likely to arouse his suspicions, and the first news he had of the murder was from his wife, when she stumbled on the dead body at seven in the morning. "And then I went and told Kensit all about it," finished Mr. Jabber with a very white face, evidently afraid lest he should be accused of committing the crime.
Tollart, who was just as red-faced, but much more sober than usual, stated that he had been called in by the village constable within an hour after the body had been discovered. Mr. Leigh had been struck on the right temple by some heavy instrument--probably a bludgeon--and the blow, taken in connection with his weak heart, must have caused death instantaneously. The certificate of death was worded to that effect. Leigh was a patient of his, and had never been very strong, added to which, his mode of life had weakened him considerably. On the whole, the shabby, disreputable doctor, knowing that the eyes of his little world were on him, gave his evidence very clearly and resolutely, so that he created a good impression. There was no question as to the cause of death after Tollart's statement, even though his coupling of heart disease and a blow seemed rather muddled. No one in the village had expected Leigh to live to any considerable age, owing to his delicate appearance, so it was quite certain that the violent assault had killed him. It would have been a wonder to many had he survived the blow.
For no very apparent reason Hendle was called, but all that he could say brought nothing to light. He related how Leigh had dined with him, and how he had called at the Vicarage next day while on his way to London. So far as the witness knew, Leigh was in good health and spirits. "The announcement of his death came as a shock to me," finished Rupert.
"Had he any enemies?" questioned the Coroner.
"Not to my knowledge. A more amiable man never existed."
"Do you know anything of his past life?"
"Only that he had been vicar here ever since I was a child, and was devoted to books and to archæology. With the exception of his parishioners, myself and Mr. Mallien and his daughter, I don't think he ever saw anyone. He was wholly wrapped up in his books."
"Then there was nothing in his past life which suggests any reason why this crime should have been committed?"
"Certainly not, so far as I know."
Inspector Lawson and Kensit, the village policeman, gave what sparse evidence they could. The latter declared that while on his rounds on the night of the murder he had met no one and had seen nothing suspicious when he passed the gate of the Vicarage. At the hour when the crime was said by Dr. Tollart to have been committed, witness was on the other side of the village. Lawson deposed that no weapon had been found, that no evidence of any intruder had been discovered.
"I understood that the study was in a state of disorder," said the Coroner.
"I gather from many sources that the study was always in a state of disorder," retorted the Inspector.
Kensit, recalled, said that he did not think that the study was even more untidy than usual. Everything was turned upside down--books and papers, "Just as if some one had been searching for something," declared the witness.
"Then you think that the murderer killed the vicar, and then looked about to find something, which he wished to get, and for the possession of which he committed the crime?"
Kensit hesitated. "I am not prepared to go that far," he remarked, after a pause. "All I can say is that I gained some such impression."
When this speech was made, Rupert glanced at Carrington and Carrington looked at Rupert. The same idea struck them simultaneously, that the murderer might have been searching for the will of John Hendle. But then the existence of that document was known only to the dead man, to the barrister and to the Squire. Rupert had been fast asleep when the crime was committed, and Carrington had been in London, so, of course, neither of the two could have had anything to do with the matter. Still, it seemed strange that the books and papers of the deceased should have been messed up. If search had not been made for the will in question, for what had the mysterious murderer been looking? This question both the young men asked themselves, and asked each other when the inquest was over.
It came to an end very speedily. The Coroner could only direct the attention of the jury to the facts laid before them, and did not offer any opinion, as indeed he could not. The jury brought in a verdict of "Willful murder against some person or persons unknown," which was all that could be done. Then the meeting broke up, the reporters slipped away with their loaded notebooks, grumbling at the dullness of the matter, and the crowd of villagers dispersed to wonder, for the hundredth time, who could have killed their amiable and kindly natured vicar.
"The beast who murdered Leigh could not have been looking for that will."
It was Hendle who spoke, as he walked back to The Big House with Carrington. The barrister shrugged his shoulders and replied, "I had the same idea when that policeman made his statement, and I saw you look at me. I agree with you, although it is strange that the books and papers should have been turned upside down. But only you and I know of----"
"Of course, of course," broke in the Squire quickly, "and, as I was in bed, and you in London, of course we had nothing to do with the matter."
"Did you tell anyone else about the will?"
"No. I never mentioned it to a soul."
"Good. I shouldn't if I were you."
Carrington's tone was so significant that the Squire turned on him in a sharp, inquiring way. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that if anyone knew about the existence of John Hendle's will, and what it meant to you, it is possible that on you suspicion might rest."
"What rubbish!" said Rupert uncomfortably. "I was in bed and asleep at the time the crime was committed."
"How can you prove that?"
Rupert looked surprised. "Why, I saw that the butler locked up as usual, and he knew that I went to bed earlier than usual."
"Quite so. But when all the house was asleep, you might have risen from your bed and have gone through the sleeping village to see Leigh."
"Why should I do that?"
"I don't say you did," persisted Carrington. "I am only suggesting what people would say if the existence of the will were known."
"Hang it, Carrington," fumed the big man, "you don't mean to insinuate that I had anything to do with so cowardly a crime."
"No! No! No! I don't insinuate anything of the sort, as I know that you are incapable of such a thing. But other people have nasty, suspicious minds."
Hendle looked more uncomfortable than ever. "I understand," he murmured, after a pause; "it is just as well to say nothing about the will. I dare say I shall find it among Leigh's papers when his lawyer writes to me about my being the executor."
"And if you do not?"
Rupert shrugged his big shoulders. "Then there's nothing more to be said or done," he remarked with resignation.
"There is this to be said," observed Carrington, thoughtfully, "that if the assassin really was looking for the will, and turned over the books and papers to obtain the reward of his crime, the will is sure to turn up sooner or later."
"I don't follow you," said Hendle, both perturbed and puzzled.
"Think for a moment. That will is of the greatest value to you, and the man who murdered Leigh must have stolen it to--shall we say--blackmail you. When everything has blown over, he will certainly make some attempt to gain the reward he risked his neck for, by taking the will to you or to Mallien."
"If he comes to me I shall hand him over to the police," said Rupert vigorously. "And Mallien, in spite of his misanthropic ways, would do the same. I don't see, however, how anyone can have killed Leigh for the sake of that will, as no one but you and I knew about it."
"True enough. Did you tell Miss Mallien about it?"
"No, I told no one. And if I had told Dorinda----"
"She might have told her father, to whom the will was of importance, seeing that it might possibly place him in possession of four thousand a year."
"Good Lord, Carrington, you don't infer that Mallien murdered the vicar?"
"No, I don't, because I have no grounds to go upon. But if you told Miss----"
"Confound it, man, I didn't. Haven't I been saying for the last half hour that I told no one but you. Even if I had told Dorinda she would never have spoken to her father without my permission. And even if she had done so, her father would never have murdered Leigh to get the will, as he would know very well that I am not the sort of man to conceal such a document."
"H'm! I'm not so sure of that," said Carrington doubtfully. "Mallien is not a particularly scrupulous man, from what I have seen of him. He may judge you by himself."
"I don't care if he did judge me to be a scoundrel," retorted Rupert, "that would not make me one. But aren't we twisting ropes of sand, Carrington? I tell you solemnly that I told no one about John Hendle's will, save you."
"Oh, I'm only suggesting what people might say about you and Mallien, did the existence of the will become known. After all," added Carrington cheerfully, "there may not be any will at all. You have never seen it, and have only the word of a dead man to go upon. It may not exist."
Rupert shook his head seriously. "I think it does exist, and that I shall probably find it among Leigh's papers."
"And if you do?"
"I shall take it to our family lawyers and call in Mallien to talk the matter over."
"It's a risk, considering that Leigh has been murdered."
"I don't see it. Even if anyone was crazy enough to suggest that I killed the poor old man, the mere fact of my producing the will would show that I had no reason to murder him. Pouf!" ended Rupert contemptuously, "it is all froth and foam. Don't talk rubbish and make mountains out of molehills."
Carrington shrugged his shoulders and said no more, since on the face of it he was, as Rupert stated, twisting ropes of sand. No more was said on this particular phase of the case, but during luncheon the young men discussed the matter freely. Naturally, on what had been set forth in the evidence, they could arrive at no conclusion, and went to the funeral of the vicar as much in the dark as anyone in the great crowd that gathered in the churchyard. Mallien was there, but beyond scowling at Carrington, for whom he had little love, and nodding curtly to his cousin, he took no notice of the two men. Titus Ark was there and mumbled every now and then something to the effect that the vicar could not possibly be dead. But no one took notice of so crazy a statement, since the doctor had given the certificate of death. It was known how Ark idolized the parson, and how constantly he had been with Leigh, therefore everyone thought that it was simply the senile weakness of age on the sexton's part, to disbelieve that his only friend was gone. And, finding that no one heeded his protests and mutterings, Titus became stolidly silent, attending to his part of the burial sullenly.
So far as Ark's duties were concerned, he had little to do, not even having had to dig a grave. The family vault in a quiet corner of the churchyard was duly opened, and the coffin was carried down the damp, worn steps. For a few centuries the Leighs had been buried here, as formerly--before the Hendles came on the scene--they had been the Lords of the Manor. Now, save the seafaring cousin, who was on the distaff side, the last of the race had been laid to rest. A neighboring clergyman read the service, which was listened to with reverent attention, and when the door of the vault was closed again, the crowd of mourners slowly dispersed. Judging from the observations made, it was widely believed that the mystery of the death was hidden away with the dead man in that dreary vault.
"I can't see, sir," said Inspector Lawson to Rupert, "how anything is to be discovered. I looked over the poor gentleman's papers, but could find nothing in his past life to suggest that anyone would kill him."
"Yet, according to Kensit, the papers were searched through," hinted Hendle, relieved that the officer made no mention of the lost parchment.
Lawson shrugged his square shoulders. "Oh, these young constables always see more than need be seen," he observed slightly, "they are so eager for promotion you see, sir. My opinion is that some tramp on the prowl walked in at that invitingly open gate on the chance of stealing. Finding some door or window unbolted--he probably tried them on the chance, as I say--he got into the study and, while tumbling over the contents of the room and with the idea of finding something worth taking, was surprised by Mr. Leigh. Naturally, the tramp's first idea would be to escape, and, being prevented, he naturally would strike down the man who strove to detain him."
"You appear to have the case, quite cut and dried," remarked Carrington, smiling.
"It is all theory, I admit," retorted Lawson, rather nettled. "But if you can find a better explanation on what is known, sir, I should be glad to hear it."
"Oh, I dare say that your theory is as good as any other, Inspector. I suppose you will search for more evidence on those lines?"
"Search? In what direction am I to search?"
"Oh, don't ask me," replied the barrister lightly. "I am as much in the dark as you are, Inspector. Still, it will be just as well to order Kensit to keep his weather eye open on the chance of something unexpected turning up."
"I have told Kensit to do so, Mr. Carrington, but I don't hope for any result."
Everyone was of much the same opinion as the worthy official, and his theory was finally accepted by all, even by those who had hinted at a deeper reason for the commission of the crime. A stray tramp, moving from one town to another under cover of night, had probably killed the vicar, so as to escape arrest for burglary. And it might be that he did not even mean to murder Leigh, but only intended to stun him, so as to get away. The heart disease, as much as the blow, was the cause of death, according to Tollart, and the presumed tramp could not have been expected to know that the parson suffered in this way. At all events, the explanation of Lawson seemed likely to prove the sole explanation which would be forthcoming.
Carrington stayed for the night, but his consultations with Rupert led to nothing. Then he took his departure, on the understanding that if Hendle, as Leigh's executor, did find the will, or did not find it, he would call down to Barship again to give his help.
"I don't say that I am rich enough to do so for nothing, Hendle," confessed the barrister frankly, "but I'm not greedy, and you can give me what you consider fair."
"Oh, I don't mind," answered Rupert, rather contemptuously, for he thought that Carrington might have behaved more as a friend and less as a professional adviser. "You shall name your own price, if the will proves illegal, and I am left in possession of the property. Otherwise, you will have to get your fees from the new heir."
"Mallien. H'm! He is too avaricious a man to pay if he can help. I want to work for you and not for him, Hendle. However, I understand the position, and you can depend upon my doing my best to pull you through."
"I shall expect that, if I am to retain your services professionally," said the Squire rather dryly, and then, mindful of the obligations of hospitality, he drove Carrington to the station in his motor to catch the midday express.
Nevertheless, he was disappointed that his old school chum should bring pounds, shillings and pence into the matter. It imported a sordid element into their friendship, and when Rupert reached The Big House again, he came to the conclusion that perhaps Dorinda was not far wrong in her estimate of the lawyer's character; or Mallien either, for Mallien also mistrusted the man. And now it appeared that there were grounds for a certain amount of mistrust, as Hendle ruefully confessed to himself.
In a short time, Leigh's lawyer, having seen the report of the murder, inquest and burial in the newspapers, made his appearance and intimated to Hendle that he was the dead man's executor. Besides his income as a parson, Leigh only had a few hundred pounds invested in Consols, so it was evident that the sea captain in Australia would not benefit overmuch. The solicitor arranged to write to the legatee in Australia, and promised to send some one down to value the books with a view to selling them. Mrs. Jabber remained on at the Vicarage along with her husband pending the arrival of the new parson, who was to be appointed immediately by the Bishop. Rupert, as executor, went to the untidy house, after the solicitor departed for London, to look over all papers belonging to Leigh, and to put affairs shipshape. The lawyer had no time to attend to the matter, since the estate was hardly worthy of his professional attention, and when Hendle explained that certain documents had to be restored to the Muniment Room, and that a search for them would be necessary, the attorney allowed him to attend to the matter wholly by himself. Thus it came about that Rupert found himself three days after the burial digging among the bookish rubbish in the study.
Of course, his chief aim was to find the will, which Leigh had so positively asserted existed. But, although the young man turned over every paper and parchment, hunted through various boxes, and even examined many of the books, on the chance that it might have been slipped into one of them, he was unable to find what he wanted. At the end of three or four hours, and when the afternoon was waning, Hendle began to think that the will was a myth. It probably had never existed save in Leigh's dreamy imagination. On the other hand, it might have existed, and the assassin might have taken it. But this was too fantastical an idea for Hendle to accept for one moment. Seeing that only himself and Carrington knew about the will, whether it was real or fictitious, it was impossible to believe that the crime had been committed for its sake.
By the time five o'clock came, Rupert, working, for the sake of coolness, in his shirt sleeves, was hot and dusty and weary. Looking for a needle in a bundle of hay did not appeal to him as an amusing task, and he was about to abandon the search for the day, when a quick, firm step was heard, and Mallien, looking like a thunder cloud, entered to scowl a greeting.
"Well?" he asked disagreeably, "have you found John Hendle's will?"
Sitting on the floor in a grimy snowdrift of scattered papers, and surrounded by piles of dingy books, Rupert stared at his cousin, scarcely taking in the purport of his words. Mallien appeared to be pleased with the expression of genuine bewilderment on the other man's face, but did not improve the occasion by speaking immediately. Since the afternoon was oppressively hot, he wore a suit of cool white flannel, which made him seem blacker in his hairy looks than ever. In the heavy yellow sunshine streaming through the dusty room, his many jewels twinkled and shot fire; scarf-pin and studs, sleeve links and rings. Near the door, which he had closed, the newcomer leaned, against the many volumes filling the book shelf, with folded arms and crossed legs; an odd, and, as it impressed Hendle, a sinister figure. It was the Squire who spoke next, as he was not entirely sure if he had heard Mallien's astounding question.
"What do you say?" he asked, almost mechanically.
"You heard me right enough," sneered the other.
"John Hendle's will?"
"Ah, I thought so. None so deaf as those who won't hear. Well, have you found it, Rupert?"
"John Hendle's will," repeated the Squire, greatly taken aback by this sudden display of knowledge on the part of his cousin.
"Yes! Don't pretend that I am talking nonsense; you know better."
Hendle gradually collected his scattered thoughts, and rose slowly to his feet. Then, quite in a mechanical way, he took out pipe and tobacco pouch. "I should like to know who told you," he remarked, filling the bowl.
"You shall know--Mrs. Beatson told me."
"And how did she know?"
"As women generally know things they are not meant to learn--by eavesdropping. You understand. She listened to the conversation between you and the parson, when he dined at The Big House, on the evening before his death."
"He did dine with me," admitted Hendle seriously. "And he did tell me about the discovery of the will you mention. But why did Mrs. Beatson listen, since she could not have guessed what he was going to speak about."
"It seems to me, Rupert, that you are asking questions, whereas it is my right to do so. However, to make things clear, I don't mind in the least answering you. Mrs. Beatson explained to me, in excuse for her eavesdropping, that you had told her of your approaching marriage with Dorinda, and she was afraid lest you should turn her out."
"I told her I wouldn't."
"Oh, did you? Then evidently she did not believe you, and hovered round the dining-room and drawing-room, hoping to hear anything you might say to the vicar on the subject. Leigh hinted at some mystery he had to impart to you. Mrs. Beatson heard his remark through the open door of the dining-room and it aroused her curiosity. When you went to the drawing-room, she was outside the window drinking in every word."
"Hum!" said Rupert, lighting his pipe. "I remember that the windows of the drawing-room were open on account of the heat. She stole along the terrace, I presume."
"Yes, and heard every word," repeated Mallien significantly. "In the first instance, you will understand that Mrs. Beatson only hovered round you and the vicar to hear anything connected with her possible dismissal. But, when she grasped the fact about the will, she became aware that she had overheard a secret, which she could turn to her own advantage. For a time she hesitated whether to let you or me buy her silence. Then, thinking that I would get the money, she came and told me all about it."
"Hum!" said Rupert again, and very calmly. "Rather treacherous behavior toward me, considering how kind I treated her."
"Treachery be hanged!" burst out Mallien, leaving the wall and throwing himself onto a convenient pile of books, which afforded him a seat. "She wanted to see me righted."
"She wanted a price for her secret, I think you said."
"Well, and why not?" demanded the hairy little Timon, in a blustering way. "It is only natural that you should wish to keep the secret, and only natural that Mrs. Beatson should try and make money out of telling it to me."
"I suppose it is, with some natures. So you are going to pay her."
"Yes! She's done me a good turn. I'll give her an annuity when I come to live at The Big House."
"You are not there yet," said Rupert, dryly. Now that he knew the worst he was perfectly calm. And he had every right to be since he had done nothing with which to reproach himself.
"I shall be there, when this will comes to light," bullied Mallien fiercely. "Naturally you wish to hide it----"
"There you make a mistake," interrupted the big man leisurely. "As soon as the will is found, I shall take it to our family lawyers, and have it looked into."
"Oh, yes, you say so now, because you can't keep the secret any longer, thanks to Mrs. Beatson," retorted Mallien coarsely.
"I never intended to keep any secret."
"Then why didn't you tell me as soon as Leigh told you?"
"Because I had not seen the will, and so far as that goes, I have never set eyes on it yet. It may be a myth, and it was useless for me to speak about it until I was sure that such a document was in existence."
"It is in existence," insisted Mallien uneasily.
"We have only the vicar's word for it."
"Oh, of course you say that."
"What else can I say? Listen to me, Mallien. Unpleasant as it is for me to lose my property, I am quite willing to surrender it to you without the intervention of the law, if the will proves to be legal. If it doesn't, of course I shall keep my own."
But even this generous and reasonable speech did not appeal to the grasping hearer. "You can do what you like," he replied doggedly; "but if I don't get the property, I shall bring the case before a judge and jury."
"There will be no necessity for you to do so, if the will is legal."
Mallien sneered. "I suppose you'll try and prove that it isn't."
"Certainly," retorted Hendle, angered by this extreme selfishness. "You may be sure that I shall do all I can to protect my own interests. Would you not do the same were you in my position?"
The other shirked a straightforward reply as a selfish man would. "That is neither here nor there," he snapped, "I want my rights."
"You shall have them, if you have any."
"From what Mrs. Beatson told me----"
"Mrs. Beatson knows no more nor no less than I do," interrupted the Squire patiently. "She is aware that Leigh found--or said that he found--a will made by John Hendle one hundred years ago, leaving the property to Eunice Filbert and her descendants. If such is the case, and you are rightfully entitled to take my place, well"---- Rupert shrugged his square shoulders, and completed his sentence by waving his hand vaguely to the four corners of the room. Mallien scowled and tried to pick holes.
"Oh, you can be certain that I shall claim my rights to the last farthing," he growled savagely, and rather annoyed by Rupert's reasonable attitude.
"Naturally. That is only fair. I am not the man, as you well know, to keep what does not honestly belong to me. But," added Hendle with emphasis, "the will has yet to be found."
"It must be found," declared Mallien violently.
"That is easier said than done. Leigh seemed to have mislaid, or hidden it, very thoroughly. Inspector Lawson did not come across it, and I can't lay my hands on it nohow. And, remember, even when it is discovered, the legality of it has yet to be proved."
"If it is signed and witnessed properly I inherit," shouted Mallien, doggedly, and objecting, as such an illogical man would, to the mere shadow of a contradiction.
"Don't go too fast," said the Squire dryly. "There is such a thing as the Statute of Limitations."
"Oh, is there? And what deviltry is that?"
"A law which, in most cases, operates against the restoration of property devolving under a lost will, found--as this one has been--after so long a period of time."
"You talk like a book," sneered Mallien, uncomfortably, for here was an obstacle which he did not expect to meet. "And you will take advantage of this infernal Statute?"
"Why not?" demanded Rupert, calmly. "Would you not do the same under the same circumstances?"
"I prefer not to enter into any argument on that point," said Mallien loftily. "It seems to be a silly law. And what about not keeping what isn't your own."
"If the Statute of Limitations acts in my favor, the property would be my own," answered the Squire coolly.
"Hair-splitting!"
"Common sense! And I would not have used such an argument, but for your display of greedy selfishness."
"Me selfish. How dare you!" Mallien fumed and fretted, and made as though he would throw himself on his cousin.
Hendle held out one hand to keep him off. "None of that, Mallien. No violence or it will be the worse for you. If it comes to a physical tussle, it will not be difficult for me to lay you on your back."
Mallien knew this, so tried verbal bullying. "I order you not to address me in that insolent tone."
"Don't be a fool, man. And don't talk about insolence until you learn how to behave yourself. Everyone far and near considers you a most objectionable person."
"Indeed!" Mallien grew livid. "And you?"
"I am of the same opinion," replied Rupert, smoking placidly. "If you were not Dorinda's father, I should have thrashed you ages ago."
"You shall never marry my daughter," gasped the other, panting with rage.
"Dorinda and I can afford to do without your permission. See here, Mallien, don't you think it's time you stopped playing the fool. I said before, and I say again, that if the property is proved to be rightfully yours, as the descendant of Eunice Filbert, I shall not stand in the way. So the best thing you can do is to behave your silly self and help me to search for the will. We can leave the question of my marriage to Dorinda alone just now. Until the will is found, or is proved not to exist, you are well aware that no marriage can take place."
"And if the will is found, and I am put in possession of The Big House, no marriage shall take place," retorted the other, still fuming.
"On the other hand, if the will is found and proves to be illegal? What then will be your attitude?"
"Even then I shall refuse to----"
"Not you," broke in Rupert with a broad smile. "You are too anxious to buy that blue sapphire you were talking about. If you want the five hundred a year that my marriage with Dorinda will put into your pocket, you will have to put your pride in the same receptacle."
"We'll see about that!" snarled Mallien vindictively, but in a more subdued tone, for he did not wish to cross the Rubicon too soon. "The will has yet to be proved illegal."
"The will has yet to be found," answered the Squire, thinking how difficult it was to hammer an idea into the man's obstinate head.
"Ah!" Mallien's tone was significant. "I am quite sure that it never will be found."
Rupert opened his big blue eyes in genuine surprise. "You seem to have changed your opinion," he remarked, after a pause. "Just now you made sure it would be found."
"Bah!" Mallien's pent-up rage burst forth anew. "Do you think that I can't see through your pretended search?"
"Pretended search." Hendle rose slowly and towered above the stout little man like a giant. "Explain what you mean."
"It's easy to see," snapped the other, sulkily. "Lawson could not find the will among the papers of Leigh and you will not find it. And why? Because it is already in your possession, and has been destroyed for all I know."
"Still, I don't understand," said Rupert, and his eyes grew hard as he began to have an inkling of Mallien's meaning. "Leigh did not give the will to me before he died."
"I dare say not. He had his own fish to fry, and would only have given it to you on getting your promise to finance his silly Yucatan expedition. You took the will from his dead body."
Hendle's temper, long held in check, blazed up. He took two steps toward the gad-fly which so irritated him, caught Mallien by the throat and flung him right across the room. "You liar," he said, in a dangerously quiet tone.
"It's true! it's true!" gasped his cousin, struggling into a sitting position amid a pile of tumbled books.
"Do you want your neck twisted?"
"I dare you to do it," shrieked Mallien hysterically. "You daren't add one murder to another."
Rupert sat down suddenly, afraid lest his wrath should carry him too far, and reined in his feelings with a powerful effort. "I think you are a fool, and should be answered according to your folly," he said, with suppressed anger. "What makes you think that I did such a thing?"
His cousin gathered himself together and smoothed his ruffled plumes. But he still remained among the pile of books his fall had scattered, as he did not wish to come within arm's length of Hendle. There he sat and grinned like an ugly little gnome. "Anyone can guess your game," he sneered, venomously. "Leigh told you about the will and said it was here, but--I am quite sure of this--he refused to give it to you, unless you agreed to finance his Yucatan expedition. Of course you refused, and then came here in the dead of night to murder him and get the will. Bah! I can see through your pretence of searching for what is already found."
"You read my character according to your own base thoughts," said Rupert, now quite self-possessed; "and what you say is wholly untrue. Leigh told me about the will, as Mrs. Beatson informed you, and she can bear witness that the vicar declared that he had mislaid the document. I called to see him the next morning, but he was away--as Mrs. Jabber can testify--seeing Mrs. Patter, who was reported to be dying. I then went to Town to consult Carrington----"
"Oh, you have brought that beast into it," sneered Mallien vindictively.
"I consulted him as to what was best to be done, and he advised me not to see the vicar until the next day, and then in his company. Carrington, as you well know, came down by the midday train, for the purpose of seeing Leigh along with me. But by that time Leigh was dead."
"Quite so. And you killed him."
The accusation was so absurd that Rupert merely shrugged his shoulders, and wondered why he had lost his temper with this gad-fly even for a moment. "I think you will find it difficult to prove that," he observed, suavely. "I did not see Leigh on the night he was murdered; I did not even call at the Vicarage, thanks to Carrington's advice. My servants can prove, if you like to question them, that I locked up and retired to bed at ten o'clock."
"Oh, I dare say you did," scoffed Mallien; "but, remember, that Leigh was killed--if Dr. Tollart is to be believed--at eleven. It was easy for you to slip out of The Big House and come along to----"
"I did not." Rupert started to his feet again, but maintained his calmness.
"How can you prove that you did not?"
"How can you prove that I did?" counterquestioned the Squire.
Mallien rose and brushed the dust from his flannels. "I shall leave Lawson to find the proof," he cried, triumphantly. "Oh, yes. Once Lawson knows that the will, which would rob you of your property, exists, it will be easy for him to assign a cause why Leigh should have been murdered. Remember, the papers were all tumbled about, as Kensit can witness. The burglary business is all rubbish. It was to get the will that Leigh was murdered, and you are the culprit."
Hendle did not reply for a moment, for so skillfully had the venomous little man built up the case, that he was quite taken aback. Then he remembered how Carrington had warned him that, if the business of the missing will was known, it was possible some such accusation might be brought. Thanks to Mrs. Beatson's treachery, Mallien had been placed in possession of dangerous facts, and Mallien, sooner than forego the chance of acquiring the Hendle property, was quite prepared to have his cousin handed over to the police. Not only was a strong motive for the murder provided, but Rupert knew that he would have the greatest difficulty in proving an alibi. After ten o'clock, all his own servants and the inhabitants of Barship were in bed, so it was perfectly feasible, on the face of it, that to protect his own interests he might have stolen through the village to commit the crime. Of course, he knew very well that he had not; that any idea of securing the will in this way had never entered his head. Nevertheless, the position was both uncomfortable and dangerous, and, for the moment, he did not know what to say. Mallien noted his cousin's silence, and concluded that guilt prevented his speech.
"You can't deny what I say," he cried viciously.
"I am too much taken aback by your audacity to reply, or to deny," retorted the young man, drawing a deep breath. "Knowing me as you do, can you think me guilty of so cowardly a crime, as to strike down an old man?"
"I think you capable of acting anyhow to retain your own property," answered Mallien cynically.
"You judge me by yourself. You might act so, but I should not. However, it is useless to prolong this talk. I now know that you are an envious and disappointed man, and to get my money you are willing to go to the length of getting me hanged."
"You shouldn't murder people, you know," taunted Mallien, believing that he was now top dog and could have everything his own way.
Rupert passed over the accusation. "I suppose," he remarked, laying a trap for his foe, "that if I hand you over the property, will or no will, you won't say anything to the police?"
Mallien's dark eyes gleamed with greed and triumph, as he had not expected to gain so sudden a victory. Hendle had evidently surrendered without firing a shot. "Yes," he said eagerly. "After all, I don't want to wash dirty family linen in public, and it would be unpleasant for me and for Dorinda to see you in the dock. After all, also, the will leaves everything to me, as the descendant of Eunice Filbert."
"The will has yet to be found; it has yet to be proved legal," said Rupert calmly, "and we are not even certain if this presumed will is not a figment of Leigh's brain."
"Leigh could not have invented such a story," said Mallien doggedly. "And whether he did or not matters little. The property is mine----"
"That has yet to be proved," interpolated Hendle quietly.
"If you don't climb down, it will be proved at the expense of your arrest for the murder," threatened Mallien.
"I see." Rupert's lip curled with contempt. "And if I give you all I have, you will condone a felony?"
"I don't care what beastly terms you use," snapped Mallien uneasily. "You know that it is in my power to have you arrested."
"And in Mrs. Beatson's also."
"Oh, I'll make it worth her while to keep quiet."
"I wonder how Dorinda ever came to have so dishonorable a man for her father," commented Rupert reflectively. "I always knew you to be a bully and an avaricious animal, but I did expect some decency."
"Take care," raged Mallien, growing livid again. "I shall tell the police what I know, if you insult me further."
"It is impossible to insult you. A man who had agreed to hush up what he supposes to be a crime cannot be insulted. He is beyond the pale of decency. I presume, Mallien, that it never occurred to you that if I were weak enough to agree to your blackmailing, that you could be arrested later as an accessory after the fact, always supposing that I am guilty, which I am not."
"Oh, for your own sake you'll hold your tongue," said the other confidently, "and Mrs. Beatson can be squared. I don't think she'll connect the murder and the will, anyhow, as I have done."
"I see. She is not quite so clever as you are. Well, then, if I hand over the property to you straightway, and not bother about finding the will----"
"Which you have already got and destroyed."
"I see. We'll let it go at that. I am guilty, and you will condone my guilt on condition that you get my money?"
"Yes," said Mallien impudently.
"And you will take the risk of being proved an accessory after the fact?"
"Yes! Because I know that you'll hold your tongue for your own sake."
"Of course, you will keep Mrs. Beatson quiet?"
"Certainly. She won't say a word if I give her an annuity; and she is not likely to connect the will and the murder, as I remarked before. Well?"
"Well?" echoed Rupert ironically. "I'm not taking any, thank you."
Mallien's face fell when he found that, in the moment of his fancied triumph, victory was suddenly snatched from his grasp. "You refuse?"
"I do. Go to Inspector Lawson and bring your accusation. I am quite ready to meet it."
"You'll be arrested," threatened Mallien.
"I am quite willing to be arrested. That's better than being in the power of a blackmailer."
"You are mad; you are quite mad."
"You would like me to be, but, as it happens, I am perfectly sane. Meanwhile, until you have me locked up, help me to search for the will."
Mallien could not understand his cousin's attitude. He had insulted him; he had brought a vile accusation against him; yet Rupert coolly refused his greedy terms, and evidently did not mind being in his company. Knowing how he would have cringed and agreed to anything under similar circumstances, Mallien at once sought refuge in a taunt. "I thought you were a man?"
"Obnoxious animals such as you are cannot judge what is a man and what isn't, my friend," retorted Rupert, putting on his coat. "Will you walk along with me toward The Big House and discuss the matter further?"
"No, hang you, I won't."
"As you please. And your denunciation of me to the police?"
Mallien hesitated. "I'll give you a week to think things over."
"Thank you," said Hendle gravely, and, the treaty having been made, the conversation ended with victory for the Squire--a victory won by sheer honesty.