CHAPTER V
DENOUNCED
Listening, against their will, to the monotonous tolling of the death bell, the two men crossed the deep-set lane into which Mr. Fransemmery had tripped only an hour before in high spirits, never anticipating tragedy and gloom, and took their way across the sunlit park towards Markenmore Court. For awhile neither spoke: each was occupied with his own thoughts. But suddenly the Chief Constable turned to his companion.
“A remarkable thing, Mr. Fransemmery,” he said, “that if Sir Anthony is dead—and I make no doubt of it, for there’s nobody else in the village that they’d toll a minute bell for—he and his elder son should come to their deaths on the same morning! And now, I suppose, the title passes to Mr. Harry Markenmore—of course.”
But Mr. Fransemmery had been thinking on lines of his own, and he shook his head.
“Maybe,” he answered, as if in doubt.
“Aye?” said the Chief Constable. “But why maybe. He’s the next, isn’t he?”
“Well,” replied Mr. Fransemmery. “Guy Markenmore, so I’m told, left home seven years ago, and has never been there since—I know that much. Now, the probabilities are that during those seven years, Guy Markenmore married—it’s likely, anyway. And in that case, if he’d a son, the title—and the estates, for I happen to know that the Markenmore property is strictly entailed—will pass to him. That, of course, will have to come out.”
“A lot will have to come out,” muttered the Chief Constable. “That Guy Markenmore has been murdered I haven’t the least doubt! But why! Evidently he has returned to the old place—summoned to see his father, I should think—and here he’s found shot dead, first thing in the morning! It will take some working out. Luckily, I had that man Blick in Selcaster when I heard the news, and I roused him out of his hotel, immediately, and brought him along.”