LITMIR.BIZ

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word ‘murder’. Every point of the matter was discussed, but no one could arrive at any decision. Slack voiced the general sentiment when he rose to go.

      ‘We must wait for the police,’ said Slack.

      But Alan Thorold was of the contrary opinion. He did not wish to wait for the police, or to have anything to do with the police. The difficulty was that he could not get the Rector to take this view, and the next morning Mr Phelps sent the village constable for the inspector at Burchester, the big market town twenty miles away across the heath. Meantime, at an early hour, Alan presented himself at the Moat House. He broke the news as gently as he could. Both Sophy and Miss Vicky were horrified.

      ‘To think of such things taking place in a Christian graveyard!’ cried the little woman, wringing her hands. ‘Sacrilege and murder! It makes one believe in the existence of atheists and anarchists, and such-like dreadful people—it does, indeed!’

      Contrary to Thorold’s expectation, Sophy proved to be the more composed of the two. She neither wept nor fainted, but, very pale and very still, listened to all that he had to say. When he had finished, she had only one question to ask.

      ‘Who did it?’ she demanded in the calmest voice.

      ‘I can’t say—I don’t know,’ stammered Alan, taken aback by her attitude generally. ‘We must find out. If your father had enemies—but even an enemy would have had no object in doing this.’

      ‘What about the man in Bournemouth?’

      ‘Cicero Gramp? I intend to go up to London tomorrow and see him. If he can tell the truth, it will be well worth the money he demands.’

      ‘So I think, Alan. Can’t you go today?’

      He shook his head.

      ‘There is so much to do here, Sophy. The Rector has gone to break the news of her husband’s death to Mrs Warrender. And he has sent over to Burchester for the police. The inspector—Blair is his name—will be here at noon. I did not want the police brought into the matter, but Mr Phelps insisted.’

      ‘Why did you not want to consult the police?’

      ‘I am afraid if this vagabond gets wind that the law has intervened he may give us the slip. However, I shall go up to Dixon’s Rents first thing in the morning, before the case gets into the papers.’

      ‘Do you think this man Gramp has anything to do with the murder, and with the removing of poor father’s body?’

      ‘No, I don’t,’ replied Alan promptly. ‘He would not dare to give evidence if he were. I hear that he was turned out of the Good Samaritan on the night of the funeral. It is likely enough that he saw the removal of the body, and possibly the murder. Naturally, such a creature as that wants to sell his information. He is a blackmailer, this man, but I don’t credit him with murder or body-snatching.’

      ‘Body-snatching!’ cried Miss Vicky, who was dabbing her red eyes with eau-de-Cologne. ‘Oh, the terrible word!’

      ‘Alan,’ said Sophy, after a pause, ‘do you believe the man who took my father’s body killed Dr Warrender?’

      ‘I do. Warrender was out on that night, and might have come across the man carrying away the body, and the murder might have arisen out of that.’

      ‘How do you know Dr Warrender was out?’ cross-examined Sophy.

      ‘Mrs Warrender told the Rector so. Warrender went to see the Quiet Gentleman, but not finding him in, said that he would return. He never did, and now we know the reason.’

      ‘Why don’t you make certain whether he saw the Quiet Gentleman?’

      ‘Brown? That’s impossible; he also has disappeared.’

      ‘Who was he?’

      ‘I don’t know,’ said Alan gloomily.

      ‘Does anyone know?’

      ‘Not to my knowledge. Perhaps the police may find out. Sophy, what is the matter?’

      For the girl was clapping her hands and laughing hysterically.

      ‘It was Brown who took my father’s body and killed the doctor!’ she cried. ‘I am certain of it!’

      ‘Why are you certain?’

      ‘I feel it. I can’t say why.’

      ‘But your father did not know this man. I never heard him allude to the Quiet Gentleman.’

      ‘I dare say not,’ returned Sophy doggedly; ‘but if the man had nothing to do with it, why should he disappear? And Dr Warrender went to see him. Oh! I am sure he is the guilty person. He might be an enemy of father’s.’

      ‘Sophia, your father did not know him,’ put in Miss Vicky, who was listening open-mouthed to all this.

      ‘Oh, I am not so sure of that!’ cried the girl impatiently. ‘If he did, Joe will know. Ring the bell for him.’

      ‘Did Joe know the Quiet Gentleman?’ Alan asked when he had rung.

      ‘I do not think that Joseph did,’ said Miss Vicky. ‘He told me that he tried several times to speak to him, but got no reply.’

      ‘I don’t wonder at that,’ replied the young man drily; ‘the man was dumb.’

      ‘Dumb?’ echoed the ladies.

      ‘Didn’t you know? Ah, well, perhaps not. I didn’t know myself until the Rector told me last night. Yes, he was dumb—that was why the village called him the Quiet Gentleman. Oh, here is Joe!’

      ‘Joe,’ said Sophy, going directly to the point, ‘have you heard about—?’

      ‘Yes, miss,’ said Joe, interrupting to save her mentioning so painful a subject, ‘I know, and if I find the swab as did it, I’ll kill him.’

      Joe said this in a quietly savage way, which made Miss Vicky shudder.

      ‘Have you any idea who carried off the body, Joe?’

      ‘No, sir, I have not—but,’ added the man grimly, ‘I’m going to look for him.’

      The old maid shuddered again at the expression in his bloodshot eyes.

      ‘“Vengeance is mine. I will repay, saith the Lord”,’ she put in severely.

      ‘All werry good,’ said Mr Brill, ‘but I guess the Lord needs an instrument to carry out that text.’ He spat on his hands and added slowly, ‘I’m that instrument!’

      ‘Had my father any enemies that you know of, Joe?’

      ‘No, miss, not that I knowed of. He had rows, as a man should, had the Cap’n, but I don’t know any swab as ’ud have stolen his corpse.’

      ‘And murdered Dr Warrender,’ said Alan, who was watching the man.

      ‘As you say, sir,’ replied the sailor calmly, ‘and murdered Dr Warrender. No, I can’t rightly call anyone to mind.’

      ‘Did you know the Quiet Gentleman, Joe?’

      ‘I did not, miss. Brown he called hisself—leastways, Mrs Marry told me so, for Brown had no tongue. I tried to pass the time o’ day, meeting him friendly like on the road, but he only put his hand to his mouth and shook his white head. I don’t know nothing about him.’

      ‘Do you know a tramp named Cicero Gramp?’ asked Alan, after a pause.

      ‘Well, I did in a way.’ Joe drew his huge hand across his mouth, and seemed to be considering his reply. ‘In this way, sir. He comed here to the kitchen and put ’em all wrong with his lies. I kicked him out—leastways, I giv ’im something to take ’imself orf.’

      ‘What did he come here for?’

      Joe clenched his teeth and frowned dreadfully.

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