He finished, however, all that was on the table, and then, lighting a pipe, strolled out of the coffee-room with placidity restored. In the passage he met Timmins, the landlord, who wore a very obvious air of great importance. “Good morning!” said Timmins in a sepulchral voice of pleasure, in response to Humblethorne’s greeting. “Dreadful news this morning, isn’t it?” “What’s that? I have heard nothing,” replied Humblethorne. “Not heard? Bless my soul, I thought as every one knew it by this time. Why,” coming closer and speaking slowly and deeply so as to extract the fullest amount of dramatic effect from a new listener—he had had a good deal of practice that morning and was getting distinctly good at it—“Sir Roger was found dead on ’is own stairs, right there in the ’all, they say, this very morning! Terrible wounds on his ’ed too; seems as if they’d really set on ’im proper, don’t it?” “You don’t say so!” exclaimed Humblethorne. Timmins was disappointed; the quiet little man had seemed such a splendid subject for the gratifying reception of gruesome details, and yet he did not seem particularly impressed, at least, not in the way in which Timmins had expected. A thoughtful look came into his eyes and then they lit up with a gleam that Timmins took for pleasure but was really professional interest. “Ah,” said Timmins, “I see you knew ’im. Well, there ain’t many as’ll be sorry, a hard-hearted old grasper ’e was and no mistake. But isn’t it terrible? So sudden-like. There’ll be a sight of people over, I’m thinking. It’s lucky as I ordered in an extry large joint for to-day. Bound to be busy ’ere with a thing like that ’appening. But it’s a kind of reflection on the place, look at it ’ow you will, don’t you think?” “No, I didn’t know him,” said Humblethorne, breaking abruptly into these remarks. “But of course I’m interested: I’m an inspector of police, though you’ll help me by not letting on about that in the village.” “You leave it to me, sir,” said Timmins importantly. “Lord! An inspector! Knew all about it before’and, I’ll lay, and came here on the quiet-like.” “No, indeed I did not,” replied Humblethorne warmly: his sense of propriety was outraged at the expense of his sense of humour. “You leave it to me,” repeated Timmins in suppressed tones of confidence; “I’ll see as nobody twigs your little game; I’ll see you through.” “I suppose there’s a police-station in the village,” said Humblethorne, ignoring the heavy suggestion of alliance. “Yes, sir, just along to the left. Birts, Sergeant Birts, is your man: shall I step round with you?”