‘Please, ’um, the fowls are getting as cold as ice,’ said Rebecca, at the door of the dining-room. ‘Do let me take your bonnet and shawl, ’um.’ They all went in, Mrs. Dulcimer having removed her wraps, and shaken out her frillings hastily. The dining-table looked the picture of comfort, with its composite meal, half tea, half supper, a pair of fowls roasted to what Rebecca called ‘a turn,’ a dish of broiled ham, a cold sirloin and a winter salad, made as only Rebecca--taught by the Vicar himself--could make salads. Kenrick had a fine appetite after his long damp journey from the South. All tea-time the talk was of Mr. Harefield and Beatrix. The Vicar had been in the little group of listeners standing by the door of the Water House dining-room, and had heard the whole of the coroner’s inquiry. ‘That poor girl ought to have somebody to watch the proceedings on her behalf,’ said Mr. Dulcimer. ‘I shall go over to Great Yafford on Wednesday and see Mivers. He is about the cleverest lawyer in the town.’ ‘Mr. Scratchell would surely protect Beatrix’s interests,’ suggested Mrs. Dulcimer. ‘Mr. Scratchell is very good as a collector of rents, but I do not give him credit for being exactly the man for a critical position.’ ‘What do you mean by a critical position, Clement?’ exclaimed Mrs. Dulcimer. ‘I mean that Beatrix’s position is a very critical one. Her admission that she bought laudanum at six different shops, within one week of her father’s death by that poison, is calculated to raise very painful suspicions in the minds of those who do not know the girl’s nature as well as you and I do.’ ‘Oh, Clement, how dreadful!’ ‘To protect her against such suspicion she must have a clever lawyer. Mr. Harefield must have got the laudanum that killed him somewhere or other. The mode and manner of his getting it ought to be found out before this day week.’ ‘It must be found out!’ exclaimed Mrs. Dulcimer. ‘Kenrick, you will help this poor ill-used girl, will you not? Your chivalry will be aroused in her defence.’ ‘I am sure if I can be of any use’--faltered Kenrick. ‘You can’t,’ said the Vicar. ‘A clever lawyer will be of use--and no one else. I shall write to Mivers directly after tea.’ ‘Has Miss Harefield any idea that the admission she made about the laudanum may be dangerous?’ inquired Kenrick. ‘Not the slightest. Poor girl, she is simply dazed--that is the word--dazed! She did not even want me to stay with her. She did not care whether I stayed or went away. Her brain is in a state of stupor.’ ‘It was very lucky for her that she did make that statement about her purchase of the laudanum,’ said the Vicar. ‘But why, if the admission was likely to do her harm?’ asked Kenrick. ‘Because to have concealed the fact would have done her more harm. The chemists from whom she bought the stuff would have talked about it.’