Mr. Churchill’s clear, brown face turned a dusky red.
“You are mistaken then,” he said, sharply. “I saw and heard of them both. I saw the register of their marriage and the clergyman who married them and the two ladies who were present at the ceremony! But I won’t discuss it. Vicar, will you go with me to seek the banker’s letter in the squire’s writing-table, or shall I go alone?”
“Of course you must go, James?” exclaimed Mrs. Layton. “There may be family affairs in the writing-table not intended for Mr. Churchill’s inspection. But I think this haste is most indecent; the poor man not cold yet, and everyone in such a hurry to get what is left! But we could expect nothing else.”
With this parting shot Mrs. Layton quitted the room, and half an hour later the letter from John Temple’s banker informing the squire that his nephew was abroad, was found by Mr. Churchill and the vicar in one of the drawers of the writing-table in the library. By this time the dead man had been borne away, yet there were traces of his familiar presence all around. The pen he had been using when his summons came; an unfinished letter lying on the blotting pad; the keys Mrs. Layton had coveted; the chair on which he had died!
Yet Mr. Churchill sat down there, and deemed he was doing his duty as he did so, and deliberately wrote to John Temple, his successor. He also wrote to the bankers, requesting them to forward the inclosed letter to Mr. John Temple at once when they received it, if they knew his address, and, at the same time, suggested that a telegram might be sent immediately. Then, having done this, he looked around a little sadly.
“Poor man,” he said to the vicar, “everything reminds one of him—ah, well, it’s very sad.”
But his heart was not sad as he rode home. He felt almost as though he himself had come into some portion of the dead man’s inheritance.