"Why!"--Tollart leaned against the pile of books near the wall, as his constant nipping made him shaky on his ponderous legs--"why, because he never locked up the house, and it stands away from the village in quite a lonely fashion. Anyone could break in here, or rather walk in, as Leigh never bothered about bolts and bars." "There was nothing to guard, Tollart. I don't think it was worth any burglar's while to risk his neck for nothing." "The man who downed Leigh was of a different opinion," said Tollart grimly. "Do you think a burglar killed him, sir?" asked Kensit anxiously. "Who else?" "But Mrs. Jabber says that there is nothing missing." "Isn't there? How does she know? Anyhow, his papers and books are all turned topsy-turvy. The burglar had a good hunt for loot, anyhow." "The room is rather in a mess," observed Kensit thoughtfully. "It always was in a mess," said Rupert, with a shrug. "When did the death take place, doctor?" "Judging from the condition of the corpse I should say at eleven o'clock last night, Hendle. Did you see any stranger about the village when you were on your rounds last night, Kensit?" "Not a soul, sir. But at eleven o'clock," Kensit reflected for a moment, "I was at the other end of the village. But when I passed the Vicarage about ten there was no one to be seen and nothing suspicious visible. The gate was open, as usual, and the door I expect was simply jammed to, as it usually was. Mrs. Jabber saw the vicar last, just before she went to bed with her husband at ten o'clock, and she left him busy at his writing and books as usual. I suppose the blow on the head killed him, sir?" "Partly it was the blow on the head and partly heart disease," mumbled Tollart, staring at the two men with a glazed eye. "Leigh never was very strong, and I always told him to take care of his heart." "I never knew it was weak," observed Rupert, "and he could not have thought so himself, as he was contemplating an expedition to Central America." "Sheer madness," muttered Tollart. "However, he's gone on a longer journey now, Hendle. Kensit, when is your Inspector coming?" "I expect him here every moment, sir." "Well, the sooner he comes the better, as that corpse must be screwed down without delay. Have the inquest this afternoon if you can. It will be a mere formality, as the cause of death is apparent enough. There, you won't want me here now. I'll be at home at one if the Inspector from Tarhaven wants me, Kensit. Meanwhile I'm off to get a drink. Thirsty weather," and the doctor stumbled away in a hurry to get some beer. "I don't think the weather makes much difference to the doctor's thirst, sir," said Kensit disapprovingly, and his chubby face looked severe. "However, it ain't any of my business, Mr. Hendle. You'll excuse me, sir, but I'll go and see that no one enters that library. Nothing must be touched until my Inspector sees the room. You haven't any idea as to who killed Mr. Leigh, sir?"