"I don't like drinking in the morning." "Nor do I. I never do. But all this worry has knocked me out of time and you aren't feeling up to the mark. Come along. Mrs. Pansey has known me all the days of my life and is distinctly a good sort. I often look in and have a chat." "As an Olympian descending among mortals," said Carrington smiling, for by this time his odd feeling had passed away. Mrs. Pansey, who was a rosy-faced, stout old dame, received her landlord with respectful joy, and soon supplied them with tankards of cool beer acceptable to the thirst on a hot day. Carrington noted how popular Rupert was with the villagers, who came and went, passed and repassed, each with a curtsey, or a touch of the forelock. And Hendle greeted one and all by name with kindly inquiries and genial smiles. A feeling of envy stirred the barrister's selfish heart, but he cynically consoled himself with the reflection that very soon Rupert would be ousted in favor of Mallien. Out of sheer annoyance with this favorite of Fortune, he would have liked to see such a toppling down, but nevertheless, for the gaining of his own ends, he was determined to prevent such a change of landlords. Meanwhile, he listened to the incessant chatter of Mrs. Pansey, which was mostly concerned with the new vicar. "Such a nice gentleman they say he is," she observed, beaming, "and will be here in a fortnight lodging with Mrs. Jones while the Vicarage is being put to rights. His family come later. Have you seen him, sir?" "No," answered Rupert promptly; "but my friend and I are now on our way to the Vicarage to see what's doing. We may meet him there." "I don't think so, sir. He came yesterday to set the men to work and won't come to-day. The workmen are painting and papering the house and digging up the garden and making a nice place of it. Mrs. Jabber remains on as caretaker until the family arrive. She'd like to stay on altogether, but Lord bless you, sir, what would the vicar do with such a slut? He's a much more particular gentleman than Mr. Leigh, I do hear." Hendle put an end to the landlady's babble by finishing his beer and departing, although the commonplace gossip had distracted his worrying mind for a few moments. As Carrington crossed the square beside his host he ventured a remark. "Let us hurry on, Hendle, and have a look at the hole by the sundial before the workmen turn up the ground." "What good will that do?" snapped the Squire sharply. "One never knows. It is just as well to look round. Who knows but what the assassin may not have left some clue?" Hendle stared. "What clue could he, or would he, possibly leave?" Carrington laughed. "Oh, it's only an idea--a silly one, maybe. But I have an idea that we will stumble upon some clue." "You and your ideas, Carrington. First your walking over your confounded grave business and now the chance of picking up some impossible clue. It's all imagination."