There came the scraping of feet, the pushing back of chairs and the sound of excited voices. The inquest was over. Chapter VI I Have an Adventure Carter had mentioned at lunch that after the inquest he was going to take his car and give Ranville a ride through the near-by country. As the route he had mapped out was the one I had come over the day before, I suggested it would please me just as well if they left me at the house. So, after speaking to his cook about my dinner, they drove out of the yard. I let the dog out of the garage, where he had been the entire day, and settled down on the veranda to read the New York papers which had just come. The news of the murder of Warren must have arrived very late, for they had only a few lines about it. But then, when I thought it over, that was all the space they needed. A very few lines could tell all that was actually known of the crime. But there were long accounts of his professional career, and even a short editorial telling what a loss he would be to science. Naturally enough the question was raised, if his manuscripts were in such shape that the discoveries he had hinted he made in China could be given the world. As I read the various articles, I saw that this one question was of the greatest interest to the public. Warren had said that he could prove for all time the question of man's origin. But what his proofs were no one knew. As he was a real scientist he refused to say anything more until he had whipped his notes into shape for publication and could give the complete data to the world. And the three papers which I read all asked the same question. Were these notes in such condition that they could be worked up by some other man of science? I was interrupted by the cook saying that dinner was ready, and I went into the dining room for my meal. Dinner over, I went out of the house, and for a time strolled around the grounds. They covered about an acre, and after a while I went through the opening in the hedge and into the quiet street. The road took a bend by Carter's house, and around it I saw the dark gray tower of a little church. I walked far enough to be able to have a view of it, deciding that it must be the church of which his next-door neighbor (the minister who had called the night before) had charge. From where I stood it seemed a very pretty sort of a building, with a stone tower directly between the church and the rectory. It was not very large, nor was the tower very high. It stood back from the road, with a vivid green lawn running to the dark granite walls—a lawn with several round flower beds, a mass of color against the green. The setting of the little church was beautiful, as if some corner of England had been lifted and placed in the little New York village.