Mallow deemed it advisable to alarm the household. He rang the bell, and the acidulated housekeeper duly appeared. She immediately lost all control of herself. She cried out aloud, and gesticulated wildly. Her fellow-servants followed suit, and in a very few moments the usually tranquil Vicarage was a very pandemonium of weeping and wailing Promptly Mallow sent a messenger for Mr. Timson, and another for Lord Aldean, with strict injunctions not in any way to alarm the ladies at the Manor House. He determined not to leave the place himself until he had possession of the cipher-diary. Seeing now that without doubt this was Michael Trall, he expected much in the way of revelation from the diary. It is a passion with some of perverted instincts to set down their deeds and misdeeds in black and white, and such documents are invariably to be relied upon. They are usually perfectly unfettered in their utterance--the tangible communion of such people with themselves. Mallow anticipated difficulty only so far as the unravelling of the cipher was concerned. This might prove obstinately difficult, or it might not. But, he argued, there was no cipher invented by man that man could not unravel--and unravel it he would, even though he took years in the doing of it. It remained now to secure the document itself. Within an hour Mr. Timson arrived, and seemed in nowise astonished at the suddenness of Mr. Brock's death. "Just what I expected," he chirped in his pessimistic way. "Cardiac failure--pure and simple. He was excited in some way, I presume, Mr. Mallow? "Yes; he became very excited while I was talking with him," said Laurence, evasively. "Quite so--quite so. I warned him. I told him how it would be. Dear, dear! Most regrettable, but natural all the same--quite natural." Mr. Timson was moved not a hair's-breadth from his habitual complacency. "Don't you think the body should be removed to the bedroom?" said Mallow. He hardly liked to begin his search for the diary with the dead man's body lying there. "Certainly, certainly! More decent. Quite right." So, superintended by the little man, Mr. Brock's remains were carried out of the study. The progress to the bedroom drew forth further lamentations from the female servants. Timson took himself off then. As he went out of the hall Lord Aldean entered. He was full of sympathy, and amazed. "Poor old chap!" he said, as Mallow conducted him to the study. "Died of heart failure, I suppose? I'm awfully sorry for the poor old fellow. He was a good sort--Brock." "Yes, I'm sorry, too," said Mallow, grimly, "but not quite for your reasons. The dead man is Michael Trall--not Brock." "Trall! What do you mean?" Aldean cast a glance at Jeremiah. "Is not this Trall, then?" "It is Michael--my poor brother," sighed the creature in the corner. "Mr. Brock your brother! Well, I----" "Wait a moment, Aldean, I'll tell you all about it directly." Then, turning to Jeremiah, Mallow asked, "Was your brother a good man?"