"Central America. Why does the vicar want to go there?" "Oh, he's been reading some diary of Mallien's father, describing certain researches amongst buried cities in those wilds, and wants to go there and look up things for himself." "I dare say if you finance this expedition, Leigh will say nothing about the will--that is, if he has already said nothing to anyone," said Carrington. "He told me that he had not. Save you and I no one knows about Leigh's discovery. It's just as well that Mallien doesn't know," ended Rupert, with a shrug, "or he would tear down the Vicarage, or rob it, to get the testament which would make him a rich man." "Well, I don't think a weak old buffer like Leigh could put up much fight, Handle. Well, my advice is for you to hold your tongue, and refrain from seeing Leigh until to-morrow afternoon. Then we can tackle him together. Buck up and face the music, old chap," added the barrister, clapping his friend on the back, "after all, the thing may prove to be a false alarm. I don't place much reliance on that dreaming parson." "Nor do I," answered Rupert, as he took his leave, "but, in this case, I fancy there must be a fire to account for the smoke. Leigh could not have invented a will which does not exist. Well then, good-bye. I shall see you to-morrow." "At one o'clock or thereabouts; anyhow, before two. Meanwhile, don't see anyone and particularly not Miss Mallien. She is sure to spot your dismals, and if she begins to question you may give yourself away." Rupert halted on the threshold, hesitating for a while, but finally promised not to see Dorinda. Then, as there was nothing else to be done, he went to a matinée of a successful play to distract his mind, and returned, as he had arranged, in time for his eight o'clock dinner. After the meal, he spent a very dull evening, reading the newspapers and playing patience. But for his promise to Carrington he would have walked to the cottage to see Dorinda, and he sorely felt the want of her society at this crisis. However, he saw the wisdom of the barrister's advice, not to acquaint her with the trouble until more was ascertained for certain, lest, by arousing Mallien's suspicions, that gentleman might learn too much. And Mallien was very quick as a rule to guess that something was being kept from him. So Rupert possessed his soul in patience and retired to bed early. After a somewhat restless night, he descended to breakfast to find that ill news travels fast. It was Mrs. Beatson who conveyed this especial information, and she did so with delight, always anxious to pass on any news of any disaster. "Oh, Mr. Hendle," she cried, bursting into the breakfast room without knocking; "such a terrible thing has happened! Mr. Leigh is dead! Mr. Leigh has been murdered!" CHAPTER VII A NINE DAYS' WONDER