"Won't give it to me?"
"No. He intends to take it to London to-morrow and place it in the hands of your family lawyers."
"Oh, well"--Mallien sat down again--"that will be all right. Once it is in their hands, they will see that I have my rights. Have you seen the will, may I ask?"
"Yes. It leaves the property to Eunice Filbert and her descendants."
"Ha!" Mallien expanded his chest, in a gratified manner. "Then I get the property. That's all right. Where was the will found?"
"Where you buried it."
The man jumped up once more, spluttering and angry. "What the devil do you mean, sir?"
"I mean this: that you murdered Leigh and stole the will and buried it under the sundial in the Vicarage garden. That is the information for which I ask five thousand pounds to be paid when you come into your property."
Mallien staggered against the wall with outspread hands. "You are mad to accuse me of--of----"
"Of murdering the vicar. No, I am not mad; but you will be if you refuse me the money. Only for five thousand pounds will I hold my tongue."