It came to an end very speedily. The Coroner could only direct the attention of the jury to the facts laid before them, and did not offer any opinion, as indeed he could not. The jury brought in a verdict of "Willful murder against some person or persons unknown," which was all that could be done. Then the meeting broke up, the reporters slipped away with their loaded notebooks, grumbling at the dullness of the matter, and the crowd of villagers dispersed to wonder, for the hundredth time, who could have killed their amiable and kindly natured vicar.
"The beast who murdered Leigh could not have been looking for that will."
It was Hendle who spoke, as he walked back to The Big House with Carrington. The barrister shrugged his shoulders and replied, "I had the same idea when that policeman made his statement, and I saw you look at me. I agree with you, although it is strange that the books and papers should have been turned upside down. But only you and I know of----"
"Of course, of course," broke in the Squire quickly, "and, as I was in bed, and you in London, of course we had nothing to do with the matter."
"Did you tell anyone else about the will?"
Carrington's tone was so significant that the Squire turned on him in a sharp, inquiring way. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that if anyone knew about the existence of John Hendle's will, and what it meant to you, it is possible that on you suspicion might rest."
"What rubbish!" said Rupert uncomfortably. "I was in bed and asleep at the time the crime was committed."
Rupert looked surprised. "Why, I saw that the butler locked up as usual, and he knew that I went to bed earlier than usual."
"Quite so. But when all the house was asleep, you might have risen from your bed and have gone through the sleeping village to see Leigh."
"I don't say you did," persisted Carrington. "I am only suggesting what people would say if the existence of the will were known."
"Hang it, Carrington," fumed the big man, "you don't mean to insinuate that I had anything to do with so cowardly a crime."
"No! No! No! I don't insinuate anything of the sort, as I know that you are incapable of such a thing. But other people have nasty, suspicious minds."
Hendle looked more uncomfortable than ever. "I understand," he murmured, after a pause; "it is just as well to say nothing about the will. I dare say I shall find it among Leigh's papers when his lawyer writes to me about my being the executor."