"Ah! the loss of the key. Yes, go Alan."
"Very well. Brown, being allowed to remain in my house, proceeded to make him quite at home in the library. Mrs. Hester writing her letter--no easy task for her--took no further heed of him. He was in the room for quite an hour, and amused himself, appears, in breaking open my desk. Having forced several of the drawers, he found at last the one he wanted--the one containing the key of the vault. Then he made all things beautifully smooth, so that Mrs. Hester should not see they had been tampered with, and leaving a message that he would return to dinner, went out ostensibly for a walk. He returned, appears, to his lodging, and left there again about nine o'clock in the evening. Since then nothing has been seen or heard of him."
"God bless me, Alan! are you sure he has the key?"
"Positive. I looked in my desk last night and it was not there. But everything was done so nicely that I am strongly of the opinion that Mr. Brown has served his apprenticeship as a cracksman, and that under a pretty good master too. No one but he could have stolen that key. Besides, the forged letter shows plainly that he came to the farm with no honest intentions. But what I can't understand," continued Alan, biting his mustache, "is how the man came to know where the key was."
"Extraordinary--yes, that is extraordinary. Undoubtedly he it was who stole the body and gained access to the vault with your key. But the murder of Dr. Warrender----"
"He committed that too; I am convinced of it. Warrender called to see him, found he was out, and I have no doubt followed him. He probably saw Brown remove the body, and of course interfered, upon which the villain made short work of him. That is my theory, sir."
"And a very sound one, too, in many respects," said the Rector. "But Brown could not have removed the body alone. He must have had an accomplice."
"True; and it is for that very reason I am going to town this afternoon. Cicero Gramp may be able to supply some information on that point. It is quite possible he slept in the churchyard and saw the whole business--murder and all."
"Alan! Alan!" cried Mr. Phelps, horrified. "Do you believe this murder was committed on the sacred soil of the churchyard, in God's own acre, Alan? No one, surely, could be so vile!"
"I do, sir; and at the door of the vault. Brown, as you say yourself, cleverly concealed the body in Marlow's coffin. He had no time to screw it down again, apparently. He must have had a pretty tough job to cut through that lead. He had to trust to chance, of course, that the vault would not be visited until he had got a safe distance away with his booty. And, indeed, but for Gramp's letter, no one would ever have thought of going there. In fact, this Brown is a most ingenious and dangerous criminal."