The other smiled grimly.
"My explanation is more extraordinary still." He took out Mr. Gramp's letter and handed it to the Rector. "What do you think of that, sir?"
"Most elegant caligraphy," said the good man. "Why, bless me!" He read on hurriedly, and finally dropped the letter with a bewildered air. "Bless me, Alan!" he stammered. "What--what--what----"
Thorold picked it up and smoothed it out on the table.
"You see, this man says the body has been stolen. Do you know if the door of the vault has been broken open?"
"No, no, certainly not!" cried the Rector, rising fussily. "Come to my study, Alan; we must see if it is all right. It must be," he added emphatically. "The key of the safe is on my watch-chain. No one can open it. Oh dear! Bless me!"
He bustled out of the room, followed by Alan.
A search into the interior of the safe resulted in the production of the key.
"You see," cried Phelps, waving it triumphantly, "it is safe. The door could not have been opened with this. Now your key."
"My key is in my desk at the Abbey Farm--locked up also," said the young man hastily. "I'll see about it to-night. In the meantime, sir, bring that key with you, and we will go into the vault."