"Only after the murder, as Mrs. Beatson probably did not tell him beforehand."
"I don't suppose she did. Hum!" Rupert stopped and looked down at his neat brown boots and gaiters. "Queer that I never thought of asking Mallien when she did tell him. I'll ask him next time we meet. Just now we can cross out Mallien as knowing. But Mrs. Beatson----"
"Exactly," interrupted Carrington gravely; "it occurs to me that she knows more about the matter than she chooses to say."
"But you don't mean to infer that she killed the vicar?"
"Why not? She knew about the will and guessed that if she could get hold of it she could make you squeal."
"At the risk of being accused of murdering Leigh."
Carrington nodded. "Perhaps. But then she may think that you would hold your tongue about that if she gave you the will."
Hendle walked on sharply. "I don't believe a word of what you say," he cried, looking much worried. "Mrs. Beatson has behaved treacherously, but I don't think for one moment that she would kill the vicar."
"Perhaps not," said Carrington soothingly. "Well, then, let us say nothing to her, but watch. If she is guilty, she is bound to betray herself. The main thing is not to let her suspect that you have found out her treachery."
Hendle took off his cap and let the balmy air play on his hot head. "It is very unpleasant," he said in a vexed tone.