"I cannot come until the inquest is over," said Beatrice, rapidly surveying the situation. "And then?" "Then, perhaps. It depends upon Mr. Paslow." "Vivian, you mean," said Dinah quickly. "I have no right to call him Vivian," replied Beatrice proudly. "Yes, you have. Vivian told me that he had asked you to be his wife, and that you had accepted." "Dinah"--Beatrice looked directly at the girl "did he tell you where he proposed?" "Yes; under the----" "Hush!" Miss Hedge sank her voice to a whisper as she saw a blue-coated constable moving heavily round the garden, and gradually drawing nearer. "Not a word. Hold your tongue about that meeting." "But why?" asked the amazed Dinah. "I'll tell you later," said Beatrice hurriedly; "that is, when I have seen Vivian. Have you his address?" "No. He went away, and said he would be back soon. Oh dear!" cried Dinah fretfully; "there is such a lot of mystery about Vivian, and has been for ages and ages. Sometimes he's jolly, and then he's as dismal as a sick cow. I thought it was love, for Jerry often is the same--silly boy. But I don't believe it is love," concluded Dinah decidedly. "Vivian has something on his mind." "What do you mean?" "Something horrid. I don't know what it is, but I fear the worst." "Don't be a fool, Dinah," said Beatrice impatiently, for she winced at hearing her own doubts put into speech. "It's money troubles that annoy him, and probably, now that Mr. Alpenny is dead, he has gone to see the executors, to know how his mortgage will stand." "As if he couldn't ask you," cried Dinah, rising and throwing her riding-skirt over her arm. "You'll get the money, of course. It ought to be a lot, Beatrice, for Jerry, who has had dealings with money-lenders, says they make heaps and heaps." "I know nothing until the will is read. Go away, dear, and come back after poor Mr. Alpenny is buried." "Poor Mr. Alpenny!" mocked Dinah. "Well, you are forgiving, Beatrice. He was a nasty old man, and never did any good in his life. He is more useful to me and Jerry dead than alive." "Dinah!" "Oh, I know it's horrid of me," said Miss Paslow penitently, "but we must live--I mean Jerry and I must think about our marriage. His father won't allow him any money, and Mrs. Snow is a cat. Our only chance of getting married, and living in a tweeny-weeny house, with a general servant, is for Jerry to get a rise. Now, if Jerry writes something picturesque about this murder, he'll get the rise and----" "Oh, go away," cried Beatrice, for this disconnected talk grated on her over-strung nerves, "and don't tell even Jerry that I met Vivian--I mean Mr. Paslow--under the Witches' Oak." "I won't say anything," promised Dinah firmly; "and I suppose it was improper for you to meet Vivian so late without a chaperone. But you will marry Vivian, darling, won't you?" she went on coaxingly. "He is so poor, and loves you; and then Mr. Alpenny's money--I mean your money--can set up the family again, and----"