Rupert glanced at the butler and the footman. "I don't quite understand," he said, in a puzzled way. "Perhaps you will explain."
In his turn Leigh, following Hendle's eyes, glanced at the servants. "When we are alone I can tell you all about it over our coffee."
More bewildered than ever and, in a vague way, sensing danger, Rupert would have asked for an explanation. But the servants being present, he decided to wait until he was alone with his erratic friend. Therefore the conversation passed on to other subjects connected with Mr. Leigh's discoveries in the Muniment Room, of various documents connected with the behavior of dead and buried Hendles toward the parish. Rupert said very little. What with Mrs. Beatson's gloom and the vicar's cryptic utterances, he felt as though some storm were approaching, and was anxious for the meal to end, so that he could go to the root of the matter. All the same, he laughed at himself for entertaining such a wild fancy. There was no quarter of the heavens from which any storm, big or little, could blow, as all was serene and bright. And, as Hendle happened to be one of those very material persons who only believe in what can be seen, heard or touched, he scouted the idea of any premonition heralding any possible evil. Yet the premonition was in his consciousness sure enough, and the young man, prosaic as ever, put it down to indigestion. A weaker explanation considering his splendid health can scarcely be imagined.
When the dinner was over, Mr. Leigh, who had contented himself with a single glass of port wine to round off the entertainment, rose more briskly than usual, and announced his wish to go.
"You must not mind my speedy departure, Rupert," he said, slipping his pince-nez into his waistcoat pocket; "but I have much work to do in connection with my proposed expedition. I hope Titus Ark is waiting to accompany me home. I told him to call for me about half-past six."
"Ark is waiting in the kitchen," said Rupert, after a quiet word with the pompous butler. "He came at six and has stayed on. There is no hurry for you to go, Mr. Leigh. Remember you have something to tell me," and Hendle, taking the old man's arm, led him gently but firmly into the drawing room.
"Something to tell you," repeated the vicar puzzled; then suddenly his face cleared. "Oh, dear me, yes; how fortunate you reminded me, Rupert. It has to do with John Hendle."
"John Hendle. Do you mean my great-great-grandfather----"
"Who died in the Waterloo year. Yes, I do. When we are alone,"--Mr. Leigh broke off and glanced meaningly at the footman who was bringing in the coffee. "It is lucky you reminded me," he ended aimlessly, "very lucky. My expedition, ah yes, this hangs on that and that on this."
"What on earth are you talking about?" questioned Hendle, much vexed at all this unnecessary mystery. "Sit down and drink your coffee and tell me all about it. You don't smoke, I know, but I shall."