“I have a task to accomplish,” he said in a solemn tone “and I cannot allow my thoughts to stray to—other things. What am I to do with love or the lighter side of life?” It was almost as though he was talking to himself, but a deep blush spread over Ena’s face, and she turned her head away.
As they emerged from the churchyard avenue the village was spread out below them in all its hideousness, like some great Fair, when the show is over. As they came to the foreshore, a figure rose over the bank from the beach. It was Fletcher, and a look of annoyance crossed his face when he saw Halley, although he tried to hide it.
“Good morning, Miss Sefton, I suppose you have been to church. I should hardly have thought that was in Mr. Halley’s line,” he said with a sneer.
“Right,” said Halley. “I did not go to church, but I met Miss Sefton there. I have been looking at your interesting graveyard.”
“What a cheerful subject,” said the other. “I am not much interested in tombstones myself.”
Halley darted a keen glance at him. “They say,” he said, “there are sermons in stones, there may be also stories on tombstones of even greater interest and value.”
“Well, I prefer something a little more amusing,” said Fletcher, and there was something in his tone which seemed to anger Halley.
Very quietly he said, “I suppose the investigation of crime is an amusing subject.”
Fletcher stopped dead, and his face went white. “Crime!” he said “what on earth do you mean?”
Ena was looking from one to the other of the two men.