"Will you go away and leave me alone!" cried Mrs. Temple, passionately. "Surely on a day like this--" And then she suddenly burst into tears. Even to her wayward mind, this greed was shocking in the house of death. Her mother left her with uplifted hands after this outburst. But Mrs. Layton was still determined not to waste her time. She therefore hurried into the poor squire's dressing-room and snatched up and secured on her person his diamond studs, which were lying in a tray on the toilet table. Then she looked eagerly around for his keys. He was sure to have money locked away somewhere, she was thinking. But she could not find the keys, and after a vain search for them she opened a linen drawer and turned out half a dozen or so of pocket handkerchiefs. "Poor man, he will never want them more," she reflected; "and I have such bad colds every winter they'll come in nice and handy, and the servants were sure to have stolen them." Having pocketed these also, she went down-stairs to see Mr. Churchill. She found him closeted with her husband, the vicar. The two men were discussing the best plan how immediately to inform John Temple of his uncle's death. Mr. Churchill had told the vicar of the banker's letter, and had suggested this as a means of communication with the new heir. The letter would probably be in the drawers of the writing-table in the library, Mr. Churchill had said, but the vicar--a timid man--had shrunk a little back from approaching a spot where so lately had lain the poor squire's gray head. Mr. Churchill, however, urged that it should be done, and they were talking it over when Mrs. Layton entered the room. She extended her thin, claw-like hand to Mr. Churchill, but coldly. "This is a sad affair, madam," said Mr. Churchill as he took it. "Not for everyone," she could not help replying, spitefully. "I think for everyone," answered the farmer, sturdily; "we all have to go, but the squire was a good man, and a good friend to all who knew him. There was but one opinion about the squire." "But one, I am sure," said the vicar, weakly. "I have been talking to the vicar, madam," went on Mr. Churchill, still sturdily, "about the best and quickest way of communicating with Mr. John Temple." "But you have not his address, I understood," said Mrs. Layton, quickly and viciously. "That will be soon found, madam." "But I thought not," replied Mrs. Layton, yet more viciously. "I understand that since Mr. John Temple quitted this house in such an extraordinary manner, that neither he nor--your daughter have ever been heard of." Mr. Churchill's clear, brown face turned a dusky red. "You are mistaken then," he said, sharply. "I saw and heard of them both. I saw the register of their marriage and the clergyman who married them and the two ladies who were present at the ceremony! But I won't discuss it. Vicar, will you go with me to seek the banker's letter in the squire's writing-table, or shall I go alone?"