"Naw," said the ancient again. "He niwer told naught to I, Squoire. You can ask him himself when he comes aloive again." Plainly Ark declined to believe that his lifelong friend was dead, and it seemed useless to impress him with the undoubted fact. He complained that the policeman would not allow him to enter the Vicarage, and that no one would take any notice of his protestations that Leigh was not dead. Rupert, although in a hurry to return to his unfinished breakfast, stayed to persuade Titus to take a more reasonable view of the situation. "Dr. Tollart says that Mr. Leigh has passed away. Besides the knock on the head he had heart disease, and either the one or the other was enough to kill him." "Dr. Tollart," grunted Ark stolidly, "he be better wi beer than wi curing folk. I nivir heard tell as Muster Leigh had heart-badness. He be aloive, I tell ee, Squoire." "Well, Titus, have your own way. But it will be your duty within a couple of days if not less, seeing that the weather is hot, to put our late vicar in his family vault." "Oh, I'll put him there, Squoire; but he bain't dead fur all that. Hor! Hor! Hor!" With another shrug Rupert passed on, and returned to The Big House to find Dorinda. She greeted him hastily and appeared to be very dismayed at the dreadful news of the vicar's murder. "Who could have hurt him, Rupert?" she asked, again and again. "He had no enemies. He would not have harmed a fly." "I'm sure I can't tell you, dear. Kensit seems to think that it was a burglar did the trick." "But there was nothing in the Vicarage to rob," protested Dorinda. "Just what I say. However, some burglar from London might have believed that Leigh was a miser and had treasure." "Has any stranger from London been seen about the village?" "No. Kensit can't make head nor tail of it," Rupert shook his head and thought for a moment. "Unless some very startling evidence turns up, Dorinda, I don't believe that the truth will ever become known. What does your father say, dear?" "Nothing. You know father did not care much for Mr. Leigh. He told me that he was sorry, but that Leigh was a fool, or he would have locked up his house regularly every night." "Your father hasn't much sympathy, Dorinda." "He never has. You know how badly he thinks of everyone. What is to be done about the murder, Rupert?" "The Inspector from Tarhaven is coming to-day, and he will arrange for an inquest this afternoon or to-morrow. Upon what evidence is obtainable will depend the next step. I expect the body"--Dorinda quivered and turned pale--"will be buried almost immediately." "Why. Don't they keep bodies a week?" "Sometimes. But in this case, Tollart says that the sooner poor Leigh is buried the better. The corpse"--Rupert hesitated--"won't keep." "Oh, don't"--Dorinda made a wry face--"poor Mr. Leigh. He was such a good man, Rupert. Who inherits his books, which are all he has left."