In the course of that afternoon the will was produced by Mr. Scratchell, who had drawn it, and who knew where to look for it. Nothing could be simpler or more decided. It had been executed nine years before, and, with the exception of legacies to old servants, and five hundred pounds to Mr. Scratchell, it left everything to Beatrix. Mr. Dulcimer was made joint executor with Mr. Scratchell, and Beatrix’s sole guardian in the event of her father dying while she was under age. Two days later came the adjourned inquiry before the coroner. This time Beatrix Harefield’s interests were watched by the lawyer from London, a little dark man, with heavy eyebrows and a hard mouth, a defender who inspired Beatrix with a nameless horror, although she could but be grateful to Cyril Culverhouse for his forethought in procuring her such skilled service. Mrs. Dulcimer had harped upon the curate’s thoughtfulness in sending for one of the cleverest men in London to protect her dear Beatrix from the possibilities of evil. ‘It was very kind of him,’ Beatrix said somewhat constrainedly, ‘but I would much rather have dispensed with the London lawyer--or any lawyer.’ ‘My dearest Beatrix, Mr. Dulcimer and Cyril must understand the exigencies of the case far better than you can, and both are agreed that the inquest cannot be too carefully watched on your behalf. If you only knew the dreadful things people say’---- Beatrix’s marble cheek could grow no paler than it had been in all the sorrowful days since her father’s death, but a look of sharpest pain came into her face. ‘Mrs. Dulcimer, do people think that I murdered my father?’ she asked suddenly. ‘My love,’ cried the Vicar’s wife, startled by this plain question, ‘how can you suggest anything so horrible?’ ‘You suggested it, when you spoke of people saying dreadful things about me.’ ‘My dear Beatrix, I only meant to say that the world is very censorious. People are always ready to say cruel things--about the most innocent persons. It was so in David’s time even. See how often he alludes to the malice and injustice of his enemies.’ Beatrix said no more, but, when Mrs. Dulcimer had left her, she sat for a long time with her face hidden in her clasped hands, in blank tearless grief. ‘I see now why he shuns me,’ she said to herself. ‘He believes that I poisoned my father.’ Beatrix was one of the first witnesses examined at the adjourned inquest. She made her statement about the medicine chest in her mother’s room, and the empty laudanum bottle, simply and briefly. ‘Why did you not mention this before?’ asked the coroner. ‘I forgot it.’ ‘What! could you forget a fact of such importance? You found your father dead in that very room, and you forgot the existence of a medicine chest, which, according to your statement of to-day, contained the poison by which he died.’ ‘The fact did not occur to me at the previous examination,’ Beatrix answered firmly.