"After the inquest, which takes place to-morrow."
"And who's going to pay me for what I've had to put up with? I didn't get no wages from Sir Hector, me having arranged for monthly payments."
"Well, I suppose Sir Hector's heir will pay you, Mrs. Vence."
"Who's he?"
"I don't know. I'm off to see Mr. Lemby, who is a friend of Sir Hector's. I may learn something about the heir from him."
"Well," said Mrs. Vence, rising with an ill-humoured look, "the sooner you get information and them wages the better. I'm travelling to London myself after the inquest to-morrer, and I do hope as my next situation won't be police news and chamber of horrors." She paused, then remarked significantly, "There's the letter, you know, Mr. Purse."
"What letter?" asked the sergeant, alertly, and pricking up his ears. "That as the post delivered when he come. He put it on the table in the hall when talking to me. I shoved him out, and the policeman came. Afterwards, that imp, Neddy Mellin. When things was quieter, I looked for the letter. Never a sign of it, Mr. Purse, though I hunted careful."
"Who took it?"
"Ask me another," said Mrs. Vence, cunningly. "All I can say is as the door was open from the time the post came to the time I chased that imp out, me being too worried to shut it."
"Did the boy take it?" asked the sergeant, rather foolishly.