"What about the man in Bournemouth?"
"Cicero Gramp? I intend to go up to London to-morrow and see him. If he can tell the truth, it will be well worth the money he demands."
"So I think, Alan. Can't you go to-day?"
He shook his head.
"There is so much to do here, Sophy. The Rector has gone to break the news of her husband's death to Mrs. Warrender. And he has sent over to Burchester for the police. The inspector--Blair is his name--will be here at noon. I did not want the police brought into the matter, but Mr. Phelps insisted."
"Why did you not want to consult the police?"
"I am afraid if this vagabond gets wind that the law has intervened he may give us the slip. However, I shall go up to Dixon's Rents first thing in the morning, before the case gets into the papers."
"Do you think this man Gramp has anything to do with the murder, and with the removing of poor father's body?"
"No, I don't," replied Alan promptly. "He would not dare to give evidence if he were. I hear that he was turned out of the Good Samaritan on the night of the funeral. It is likely enough that he saw the removal of the body, and possibly the murder. Naturally, such a creature as that wants to sell his information. He is a blackmailer, this man, but I don't credit him with murder or bodysnatching."
"Body-snatching!" cried Miss Vicky, who was dabbing her red eyes with eau-de-Cologne. "Oh, the terrible word!"