"I don't see it. Even if anyone was crazy enough to suggest that I killed the poor old man, the mere fact of my producing the will would show that I had no reason to murder him. Pouf!" ended Rupert contemptuously, "it is all froth and foam. Don't talk rubbish and make mountains out of molehills."
Carrington shrugged his shoulders and said no more, since on the face of it he was, as Rupert stated, twisting ropes of sand. No more was said on this particular phase of the case, but during luncheon the young men discussed the matter freely. Naturally, on what had been set forth in the evidence, they could arrive at no conclusion, and went to the funeral of the vicar as much in the dark as anyone in the great crowd that gathered in the churchyard. Mallien was there, but beyond scowling at Carrington, for whom he had little love, and nodding curtly to his cousin, he took no notice of the two men. Titus Ark was there and mumbled every now and then something to the effect that the vicar could not possibly be dead. But no one took notice of so crazy a statement, since the doctor had given the certificate of death. It was known how Ark idolized the parson, and how constantly he had been with Leigh, therefore everyone thought that it was simply the senile weakness of age on the sexton's part, to disbelieve that his only friend was gone. And, finding that no one heeded his protests and mutterings, Titus became stolidly silent, attending to his part of the burial sullenly.
So far as Ark's duties were concerned, he had little to do, not even having had to dig a grave. The family vault in a quiet corner of the churchyard was duly opened, and the coffin was carried down the damp, worn steps. For a few centuries the Leighs had been buried here, as formerly--before the Hendles came on the scene--they had been the Lords of the Manor. Now, save the seafaring cousin, who was on the distaff side, the last of the race had been laid to rest. A neighboring clergyman read the service, which was listened to with reverent attention, and when the door of the vault was closed again, the crowd of mourners slowly dispersed. Judging from the observations made, it was widely believed that the mystery of the death was hidden away with the dead man in that dreary vault.
"I can't see, sir," said Inspector Lawson to Rupert, "how anything is to be discovered. I looked over the poor gentleman's papers, but could find nothing in his past life to suggest that anyone would kill him."
"Yet, according to Kensit, the papers were searched through," hinted Hendle, relieved that the officer made no mention of the lost parchment.
Lawson shrugged his square shoulders. "Oh, these young constables always see more than need be seen," he observed slightly, "they are so eager for promotion you see, sir. My opinion is that some tramp on the prowl walked in at that invitingly open gate on the chance of stealing. Finding some door or window unbolted--he probably tried them on the chance, as I say--he got into the study and, while tumbling over the contents of the room and with the idea of finding something worth taking, was surprised by Mr. Leigh. Naturally, the tramp's first idea would be to escape, and, being prevented, he naturally would strike down the man who strove to detain him."
"You appear to have the case, quite cut and dried," remarked Carrington, smiling.
"It is all theory, I admit," retorted Lawson, rather nettled. "But if you can find a better explanation on what is known, sir, I should be glad to hear it."
"Oh, I dare say that your theory is as good as any other, Inspector. I suppose you will search for more evidence on those lines?"
"Search? In what direction am I to search?"