Hendle looked more uncomfortable than ever. "I understand," he murmured, after a pause; "it is just as well to say nothing about the will. I dare say I shall find it among Leigh's papers when his lawyer writes to me about my being the executor."
"And if you do not?"
Rupert shrugged his big shoulders. "Then there's nothing more to be said or done," he remarked with resignation.
"There is this to be said," observed Carrington, thoughtfully, "that if the assassin really was looking for the will, and turned over the books and papers to obtain the reward of his crime, the will is sure to turn up sooner or later."
"I don't follow you," said Hendle, both perturbed and puzzled.
"Think for a moment. That will is of the greatest value to you, and the man who murdered Leigh must have stolen it to--shall we say--blackmail you. When everything has blown over, he will certainly make some attempt to gain the reward he risked his neck for, by taking the will to you or to Mallien."
"If he comes to me I shall hand him over to the police," said Rupert vigorously. "And Mallien, in spite of his misanthropic ways, would do the same. I don't see, however, how anyone can have killed Leigh for the sake of that will, as no one but you and I knew about it."
"True enough. Did you tell Miss Mallien about it?"
"No, I told no one. And if I had told Dorinda----"
"She might have told her father, to whom the will was of importance, seeing that it might possibly place him in possession of four thousand a year."