For no very apparent reason Hendle was called, but all that he could say brought nothing to light. He related how Leigh had dined with him, and how he had called at the Vicarage next day while on his way to London. So far as the witness knew, Leigh was in good health and spirits. "The announcement of his death came as a shock to me," finished Rupert.
"Had he any enemies?" questioned the Coroner.
"Not to my knowledge. A more amiable man never existed."
"Only that he had been vicar here ever since I was a child, and was devoted to books and to archæology. With the exception of his parishioners, myself and Mr. Mallien and his daughter, I don't think he ever saw anyone. He was wholly wrapped up in his books."
"Then there was nothing in his past life which suggests any reason why this crime should have been committed?"
Inspector Lawson and Kensit, the village policeman, gave what sparse evidence they could. The latter declared that while on his rounds on the night of the murder he had met no one and had seen nothing suspicious when he passed the gate of the Vicarage. At the hour when the crime was said by Dr. Tollart to have been committed, witness was on the other side of the village. Lawson deposed that no weapon had been found, that no evidence of any intruder had been discovered.
"I understood that the study was in a state of disorder," said the Coroner.
"I gather from many sources that the study was always in a state of disorder," retorted the Inspector.
Kensit, recalled, said that he did not think that the study was even more untidy than usual. Everything was turned upside down--books and papers, "Just as if some one had been searching for something," declared the witness.
"Then you think that the murderer killed the vicar, and then looked about to find something, which he wished to get, and for the possession of which he committed the crime?"
Kensit hesitated. "I am not prepared to go that far," he remarked, after a pause. "All I can say is that I gained some such impression."
When this speech was made, Rupert glanced at Carrington and Carrington looked at Rupert. The same idea struck them simultaneously, that the murderer might have been searching for the will of John Hendle. But then the existence of that document was known only to the dead man, to the barrister and to the Squire. Rupert had been fast asleep when the crime was committed, and Carrington had been in London, so, of course, neither of the two could have had anything to do with the matter. Still, it seemed strange that the books and papers of the deceased should have been messed up. If search had not been made for the will in question, for what had the mysterious murderer been looking? This question both the young men asked themselves, and asked each other when the inquest was over.