"Has any stranger from London been seen about the village?"
"No. Kensit can't make head nor tail of it," Rupert shook his head and thought for a moment. "Unless some very startling evidence turns up, Dorinda, I don't believe that the truth will ever become known. What does your father say, dear?"
"Nothing. You know father did not care much for Mr. Leigh. He told me that he was sorry, but that Leigh was a fool, or he would have locked up his house regularly every night."
"Your father hasn't much sympathy, Dorinda."
"He never has. You know how badly he thinks of everyone. What is to be done about the murder, Rupert?"
"The Inspector from Tarhaven is coming to-day, and he will arrange for an inquest this afternoon or to-morrow. Upon what evidence is obtainable will depend the next step. I expect the body"--Dorinda quivered and turned pale--"will be buried almost immediately."
"Why. Don't they keep bodies a week?"
"Sometimes. But in this case, Tollart says that the sooner poor Leigh is buried the better. The corpse"--Rupert hesitated--"won't keep."
"Oh, don't"--Dorinda made a wry face--"poor Mr. Leigh. He was such a good man, Rupert. Who inherits his books, which are all he has left."
"I think there's a distant cousin of sorts, a ship captain. He won't benefit much by Leigh's death. I wonder if the old man made a will."