It took a good many tankards of Mrs. Timber's strong ale to wash down the sinister word "murder." Every point of the matter was discussed, but no one could arrive at any decision. Slack voiced the general sentiment when he rose to go. "We must wait for the police," said Slack. But Alan Thorold was of the contrary opinion. He did not wish to wait for the police, or to have anything to do with the police. The difficulty was that he could not get the Rector to take this view, and the next morning Mr. Phelps sent the village constable for the inspector at Burchester, the big market town twenty miles away across the heath. Meantime, at an early hour, Alan presented himself at the Moat House. He broke the news as gently as he could. Both Sophy and Miss Vicky were horrified. "To think of such things taking place in a Christian graveyard!" cried the little woman, wringing her hands. "Sacrilege and murder! It makes one believe in the existence of atheists and anarchists, and such-like dreadful people--it does, indeed!" Contrary to Thorold's expectation, Sophy proved to be the more composed of the two. She neither wept nor fainted, but, very pale and very still, listened to all that he had to say. When he had finished, she had only one question to ask. "Who did it?" she demanded in the calmest voice. "I can't say--I don't know," stammered Alan, taken aback by her attitude generally. "We must find out. If your father had enemies--but even an enemy would have had no object in doing this." "What about the man in Bournemouth?" "Cicero Gramp? I intend to go up to London to-morrow and see him. If he can tell the truth, it will be well worth the money he demands." "So I think, Alan. Can't you go to-day?" He shook his head. "There is so much to do here, Sophy. The Rector has gone to break the news of her husband's death to Mrs. Warrender. And he has sent over to Burchester for the police. The inspector--Blair is his name--will be here at noon. I did not want the police brought into the matter, but Mr. Phelps insisted." "Why did you not want to consult the police?" "I am afraid if this vagabond gets wind that the law has intervened he may give us the slip. However, I shall go up to Dixon's Rents first thing in the morning, before the case gets into the papers." "Do you think this man Gramp has anything to do with the murder, and with the removing of poor father's body?" "No, I don't," replied Alan promptly. "He would not dare to give evidence if he were. I hear that he was turned out of the Good Samaritan on the night of the funeral. It is likely enough that he saw the removal of the body, and possibly the murder. Naturally, such a creature as that wants to sell his information. He is a blackmailer, this man, but I don't credit him with murder or bodysnatching." "Body-snatching!" cried Miss Vicky, who was dabbing her red eyes with eau-de-Cologne. "Oh, the terrible word!"