"Whoy, it be the Squoire," piped Titus when his grandson went in and he came out, like the little old man and woman in the weather-gauge. "And what be you here fur, Squoire? There bain't be no funereals, surely."
"No, Titus, no. I have come to ask you about what you said to Miss Mallien."
"Aye." Ark looked tremendously cunning, and his face wrinkled up like that of a monkey gloating over a nut. "And what might that be, Squoire?"
"You told her that you saw Mr. Carrington near the Vicarage on the night Mr. Leigh died."
"Muster Leigh bain't dead I tell 'ee, Squoire."
"Yes, yes, Titus; we know all about that," replied Rupert soothingly, for he was well aware of the fixed idea which dominated the old man. "But you saw Mr. Carrington about the house?"
"Yus, I did, when walking round the Vicarage, not being able to sleep, me being old beyond telling, young sir, and the night being warm like. Yus," continued Ark garrulously, "I see him sure enough. He come down the road in the moonlight dressed as if t'were winter and went into the Vicarage gardens. But, Lord bless 'ee, Squoire, I did think as he'd gone to see the vicar, and nivir thought aught of him being there."
"But the next morning, Titus, when you heard the vicar was dead----?"
"He bain't dead, I tell 'ee, Squoire," persisted the ancient crossly.
Evidently it was useless to try and beat sense into the old creature's head, so Rupert argued no further. Ark could evidently swear to Carrington's presence in the vicinity of the Vicarage on the night in question and that was the main point. "Well, Titus, we won't talk about the vicar being alive or dead. I want you to come to-morrow to The Big House to tell Mr. Carrington that you saw him on----"