The clergyman admitted that he had been in England many times. He changed the conversation at once by remarking:
“I have just come from down town, and they are all excited over the murder of Mr. Warren. I did not know Warren very well, but it seems almost incredible a man of his position should have met with such a sudden death. Have they any idea who the guilty person is?”
We all shook our heads, and then Carter went into a brief description of the finding of the body. The eyes of the minister grew larger as he went on, and I saw a horrified look sweep across his face. As I did not know many clergymen, I studied the man before me with interest. It was easy to see that he had a good education, and I wondered why he had buried himself in such a small country town. Long before Carter had finished I had decided that the minister was as nervous a man as I have ever met. His hands were never still, and his eyes were as uneasy as his hands.
He said nothing until Carter mentioned the secretary, and then half rose as he burst forth:
“Why, of all things,” came the rough high-pitched voice, “I know Mr. Warren's secretary very well. She comes to my church. You must know her also—Miss Harlan?” and he turned to Carter.
Carter shook his head; then said he knew her by sight and that was all. He added she was a very fine-looking girl.
“That's very true,” the minister eagerly replied. “She is not only a very fine-looking girl, but a very fine girl in all ways. It's absurd to think she knows anything about Mr. Warren's death. I saw her myself this afternoon.”
The conversation for some reason lagged after this, and after a while the minister gave a glance at his watch, and then with a sudden exclamation rose saying it was late. We said “good night,” and he went down the steps and was lost to sight. After he was out of hearing Ranville asked:
“How long have you taken up with clergymen, Carter?”
His friend laughed. “Oh, I do not know him so very well. He has lived here for some time. It seems that about fifty years ago his grandfather—for some unknown reason—built the church next door. Woods sort of fell into it. He has a good deal of money they say, but very few people ever go to his church. In fact he supports it himself. You see he is about as high church as you can find—all sorts of rituals and that kind of thing. They don't go very well in a place like this. Then again, he is always attacking something.”