"Come, come!" cried Mr. Phelps, in his fussy manner, on finding Jarks haranguing the crowd. "This is most ridiculous--most out of place. Jarks, I am astonished at your desecrating the graveyard in this way."
"No desecration, reverend sir," said Jarks, in his rusty voice, "I wos only showing 'em where I laid Muster Marlow by, comfortable. Go----"
"Go away--go away, all of you!"
"Come on to the right!" shouted Jarks. "I'll show 'ee where a soocide as they brought in crazy is tucked away. A lovely grave with a good view, an' as nice a stone as I iver seed. In my young days he'd have been buried in cross-roads with a stake, but they do trate 'em kindly nowadays. Ah yis. This way to the soocide, neighbors!" And Jarks headed the crowd to the other side of the graveyard. The keen, cold eye of Inspector Blair cleared them out more quickly than Jarks' invitation.
"Dear me! most indiscreet of Jarks!" said the Rector, opening the door of the vault. "Come in, Mr. Inspector. Here's a candle. Tut, tut! I've burnt my fingers. Deuce take---- Hum--God forgive me for bad language! This is the niche, Mr. Inspector; yonder the coffin--a very handsome one. The lead is cut, you perceive. Ah, poor soul! And we meant it to last till the Great Day."
While the Rector ran on in this fashion, Blair the silent examined the empty coffin. He noted that the lead casing had been cut with a sharp instrument, and very neatly done--so neatly that the inspector became thoughtful.
"That wasn't done by a man in a hurry," he mused. But he said nothing, and merely turned to Mr. Phelps with a question: "Who screwed down the coffin?"
"Who?--bless me, let me think! Yes, yes. Dr. Warrender--poor soul!--and Joe Brill. Faithful fellow, Joe! Would see the last of his master."
"Wasn't the undertaker present?"
"Crank? Well, yes, he was. But I am sorry to say, Mr. Inspector"--here the face of the Rector became severe--"that on that day Crank was intoxicated."