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<h4>CHAPTER XV</h4> <h5>CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE</h5> Rupert felt very uncomfortable. It was bad enough to have Mrs. Beatson in the house, when he knew how treacherous she was; but it was worse to entertain Carrington as his guest. The barrister undoubtedly was determined to make money at the cost of honor. And what was more, he would probably gain his ends, unless the truth came to light. And the truth required to adjust matters was to learn beyond question what was the name of the individual who had murdered the vicar. If, indeed, Mallien was the culprit, Rupert felt that he was in Carrington's power. It was impossible to allow that truth to come to Lawson's ears, as then Mallien would be arrested and there would be a public scandal. Yet if Carrington, who knew all details, were not bribed largely to keep silence, it seemed likely that he would denounce the miserable man. Of course, as yet, Hendle could not be certain that his cousin had committed the crime; but circumstances were against him, and if the police took up the matter, ruin would stare Mallien in the face. For Dorinda's sake such publicity was not to be thought of for one moment. Hendle had no love for his cousin, who was as disagreeable and selfish a mortal as ever existed. He was capable of the most unscrupulous conduct to feed his egotism, but Rupert thought--and with some degree of truth--that the very egotism in question would prevent the man from risking his neck. Yet, even if he were innocent, as Rupert tried hard to believe for Dorinda's sake, the evidence against him was very strong. Mallien, thanks to Mrs. Beatson, knew all about the will before Leigh's death; the discovery of the ornament, near the sundial, proved that he had been where the will was buried. Also possession of the will meant a fortune to Mallien, and the sole reason for which the vicar could have been murdered was for the criminal to obtain possession of the parchment. Indeed, it was very certain that if Inspector Lawson became possessed of these facts, he would not have the slightest compunction in arresting Mallien, and in doing his best to have him hanged. The evidence was certainly purely circumstantial, but so strong that Rupert felt convinced both judge and jury would accept it as positive truth. And, failing Mrs. Beatson, whom the Squire did not believe to be guilty, it really looked as though Mallien with his greedy nature and bad temper had struck the fatal blow. Never was a man in such a dilemma. Carrington, afraid of losing his chance, remained at The Big House, and kept a strict watch on Mrs. Beatson and on Mallien himself. That gentleman had returned from London in the best of spirits, having managed to pick up a most wonderful ruby for a small price. Hendle had been under the impression that when so much was at stake his cousin would abandon his hobby to prosecute a search for the will and push on as rapidly as possible his claim to the property. But Mallien never came near the place, and, according to Dorinda, was wholly taken up with arranging his collection of gems in a new set of cabinets. This abstinence from action at such a critical period argued fear on the man's part lest dangerous information should come to light, if he made himself too conspicuous. More and more Rupert became convinced that his cousin was the guilty person, and he did not know very well how to act. He could not talk to Dorinda, as what he had to say was too terrible, and he was unable to converse freely with Carrington, since he now mistrusted him so greatly. Of course, Carrington never guessed that such was the case, as Rupert kept a careful guard over his words and actions, so that the barrister believed that his friend was quite willing to act in the dishonorable way suggested. And what Carrington did suggest was that Rupert should inform Mallien of what had been discovered, and then threaten to denounce him to the police if he did not surrender all claim to the property. Then the will could be thrown into the fire, Mrs. Beatson could be sent to Australia with a sum of money, to close her mouth, and all would end up with the marriage of Hendle and Dorinda. For this suggestion, and for services rendered in connection therewith, Carrington plainly stated that he required the sum of five thousand pounds. After beating round the bush for some time during the next two days Carrington informed Hendle frankly of his scheme and of the amount he expected for its carrying out. Then Rupert forgot his caution and told his old school friend in the most indignant way what he thought of him. The two men were walking in the park one morning when the explosion took place. Rupert, as usual, was unable to remain in the house quietly, since his very painful thoughts did not permit him to take an interest in anything. He was on his legs from morning until night, and the barrister, for obvious reasons, since he wished to poison his mind, always hung round him with suggestions of what should be done to hush the matter up. On this particular morning he did more than suggest, as he was growing weary of Hendle's sluggish reluctance to deal with the matter. Therefore, he put his proposal into plain words and mentioned his price. Rupert lost his temper and, wheeling on him in a fury, knocked him down. Carrington was so amazed and startled by this sudden rebellion on the part of a sheep that he remained on the grass tongue-tied, staring up at the big man who stood by, furiously angry. "I--I--I think--you must be--be mad," stuttered the barrister. "No, I am not mad, you villain!" said Hendle, between his teeth. "You think that I am as big a scoundrel as you are. I am not, and now you know it." Carrington pulled himself together and rose stiffly, tenderly feeling his left eye, which was growing black. "I'll make you pay for this," he said savagely, and turned a threatening face on Hendle. "You can do what you like. I am not afraid of you," retorted the Squire indifferently; "and, as this trouble has taken place, there will be no need for you to return to my house. You can go away and your luggage will be sent down to the station." "You can send it to The Hendle Arms," said Carrington, making up his mind swiftly as to his best course of action. "I don't intend to leave this place until I get what I want." "You won't get five thousand pounds anyhow, or five thousand pence, I can tell you," said Hendle, with his usually kind eyes growing hard. "Not from you perhaps, since you are such a fool. But Mallien----" "Mallien can defend himself. What he does has nothing to do with me." "It has a lot to do with Dor----" "If you mention that name I shall knock you down again!" shouted the Squire. Carrington was wise enough to take the hint, being a coward at heart as all bullies are. "I should like to know why you knocked me down at all?" he complained, in sulky tones. "I did so, because you are little else than a blackmailer." "How dare you use that word to me!" cried Carrington, black with rage, and he would have struck his quondam friend but that he knew from experience that he would get the worst of it in any struggle which might ensue. "What other word applies to your conduct?" demanded Hendle fiercely. "As my old school chum I have treated you well, and have shown you every hospitality, as you know very well. And how do you repay me? By threatening to make things hot for me if I don't buy your silence with a large sum of money." "I didn't threaten to make things hot for you," protested Carrington, snarling like a disappointed dog. "I only suggested that you should hush up the matter of the murder and the will----" "Yes, and pay you to hold your tongue. What else is that but blackmail? If I was dishonorable enough to agree to your terms, your request for money would only be the first of many." "I swear that I would ask no more." "All blackmailers say that, until they get their victims in their toils by the first payment. Then they show themselves in their true colors. I wonder you are not ashamed, Carrington, to behave so basely." "I am not behaving basely," cried the barrister furiously. "I am poor, I admit, and I want money. But all I proposed was to your own advantage." "So that you might get a hold over me by persuading me to hush up a felony and so take every penny I possess." "That you possess," sneered Carrington, recklessly throwing off the mask, now no longer a protection. "Why, Mallien should have your money." "And Mallien shall get it when the will is looked into by the lawyers. I take it to them to-morrow. You know that I am honorable." "I know that you are a fool," snarled the baffled man; "and if you strip yourself of your property to give it to Mallien, it will be all the better for me. I shall go to him and say what I know." "You are villain enough for anything. Go, if you choose." "But, Hendle," said Carrington, almost unable to grasp the fact that relations between him and Rupert had so suddenly changed for the worse, "what does all this mean? I have said little more this morning than I said to you before and only now do you object." Rupert, who was going away, stopped to face his enemy. "I objected all along, as you might have seen if you had not been blinded by your own wickedness, Carrington. Every word you said made me loathe you more and more. The sole idea you had was to get money out of me. I thought you were a gentleman and my friend, whereas you are a villain and a blackmailer." "Go on! go on!" said Carrington, becoming very white and breathing very hard. "I shall make you pay for every insult." "It is impossible to insult you," retorted the Squire contemptuously. "Such a worm as you are doesn't feel insults. As to making me pay, you have no hold over me, and you know it." "I can take away your property by telling Mallien of the will being found." "I shall tell him myself, so you needn't trouble." "I can tell Lawson about Mallien's guilt." "Oh, as to that, you can't prove that he is guilty," said Hendle coolly; "and, as you won't kill your goose with the golden eggs, you will say nothing to Lawson, if Mallien buys your silence. Come along, I've had enough of this. You can go away and do your worst. And if you don't go straight away, I shall make a public scandal, by kicking you out of the gate." "You are nothing more than a bully. You know that I am not strong enough to fight you," said Carrington furiously, but very wisely moving in the direction of the gate. "Quite so. But if I were a bully, I should thrash the life out of you for daring to insult me with base proposals as you have done. You have got off very lightly, considering all things. Now march and hold your d----d tongue." Carrington had to do as he was bidden, for the big man looked at him in a quiet, imperious way, which meant trouble. With a would-be dignified step the baffled villain walked over the grass toward the distant gate without opening his mouth. As he passed out into the road he turned for one moment to make a last threat. Rupert guessed, from the malevolent expression on his face, that he was about to refer to Dorinda and made a quick step toward him. Carrington winced and cringed, shut his mouth, and sped down the road at a remarkably quick pace. He had been turned out of his paradise, where he had expected to live in clover for the rest of his life with Hendle under his thumb, and he knew that the closed gate divided him forever from his old school friend. Therefore, did he curse, not himself, but Hendle, for being such a fool. Carrington was far too egotistic to lay the blame on his own shoulders, as he invariably believed his methods to be perfect. However, having lost his chance of obtaining money from Rupert, it only remained for him to get it somewhere else. Naturally, Mallien was the first person he thought of, since that gentleman, by inheriting the property, would have the wherewithal to pay. Carrington intended to remain the night at The Hendle Arms--to which place his portmanteau was sent during the afternoon--and next day to return to London. He would much rather have stayed on to attend to his nefarious business, but his position was bound to be disagreeable, when the villagers learned that he had been turned out of the Squire's house, so it was best to leave the place. But in the meantime he hoped to bring Mallien to his knees. With this idea he wrote a short peremptory note to the man asking him to come to the inn at eight o'clock for an interview concerning his safety, and this he sent up by hand to the cottage. On the reply would depend what attitude he would take up toward Dorinda's father. If Mallien refused to come, such refusal would hint that he was strong enough to fight; but if he came in answer to so insolent a message, his arrival assuredly would show that he was afraid of what might come out. Therefore, when a curt line or so was brought to the barrister saying that Mr. Mallien would be at the inn as requested, Carrington felt that he had won the first move of the game. The man was afraid, and it would be as well to take advantage of his fear. Also seeing what had been discovered, it was difficult to understand how Mallien could save himself. Mrs. Pansey was somewhat surprised when the Squire's guest took up his quarters for the night in her house, and wondered what could be the reason. Carrington, afraid of making bad worse, did not give her any, but simply stated that he would eat and sleep there before leaving for London by the eight o'clock train in the morning. He engaged a sitting-room and a bedroom, and enjoyed a very good dinner shortly before Mallien put in an appearance. That gentleman swaggered into the stuffy little room in his usual truculent manner, carelessly dressed in gray flannels, because the evening was hot, and glittering with jewels after his usual fashion. "What the dickens do you mean by writing to me as you have done?" blustered the visitor when the door was closed. "As you have come, I dare say you can guess," retorted Carrington, coolly. He had been bullied by Rupert, who was strong enough to thrash him, but he did not intend to be dominated by Mallien, who was weaker. Also, Hendle being honest and Mallien a rogue, the barrister felt less at a disadvantage. He was certain that his visitor was not one who would hesitate to accept terms, however shady, so long as his purpose was served. "I can't guess," growled Mallien, sitting down aggressively, "and I demand an explanation. What do you want?" "Five thousand pounds," said Carrington, thinking it was useless to beat about the bush with a brother knave. "What for?" "For certain information which will be of service to you." "Oh, if you mean the will, Carrington, I'm not going to pay something for nothing," retorted Mallien, viciously. "I know that sooner or later the will is certain to be found, and when it is, Hendle is not the man to dispute possession of what is rightfully mine." "The will has been found and is in Hendle's possession," said Carrington with a keen look. Mallien stared and changed color. "And he never told me. Here!" He started to his feet. "Let me pass. I'm off to see Rupert, and get the will." "Unfortunately, he won't give it to you." "Won't give it to me?" "No. He intends to take it to London to-morrow and place it in the hands of your family lawyers." "Oh, well"--Mallien sat down again--"that will be all right. Once it is in their hands, they will see that I have my rights. Have you seen the will, may I ask?" "Yes. It leaves the property to Eunice Filbert and her descendants." "Ha!" Mallien expanded his chest, in a gratified manner. "Then I get the property. That's all right. Where was the will found?" "Where you buried it." The man jumped up once more, spluttering and angry. "What the devil do you mean, sir?" "I mean this: that you murdered Leigh and stole the will and buried it under the sundial in the Vicarage garden. That is the information for which I ask five thousand pounds to be paid when you come into your property." Mallien staggered against the wall with outspread hands. "You are mad to accuse me of--of----" "Of murdering the vicar. No, I am not mad; but you will be if you refuse me the money. Only for five thousand pounds will I hold my tongue." "You have nothing to hold it about," stormed Mallien, savagely. "Oh, yes, I have. Sit down and listen." "I won't." Mallien made for the door. "Very good. Then go, and to-morrow you will be arrested before noon. I shall go straight to Tarhaven in the morning to explain things to Inspector Lawson. For your own safety you had much better let me explain them to you." Mallien hesitated, then returned to his seat. "You are talking rubbish," he said, pulling his beard in an embarrassed manner. "I have nothing to do with the murder. I wouldn't have come here had I guessed you would talk to me in this way." Carrington, now master of the situation, laughed. "The way in which my letter was worded compelled you to come." "It's a lie." "Then why are you here? You who hate me--you who are a bully," taunted the barrister. "There is the door. Walk out of it, if you dare!" "Less talk!" cried Mallien, savagely. "Go on and explain on what grounds you dare to accuse me." "Oh, very good. Now you are talking sense;" and Carrington related the adventure which had to do with the discovery of the buried will by Mrs. Beatson and the subsequent passing of the document into Hendle's hands. "He has it at the present moment," continued the barrister, "and intends, as I said, to take it to the solicitors to-morrow. If the property is yours, as I think it is, you will be done full justice to, as Hendle is not the man to keep what does not belong to him." "Rupert's a fool, but honest enough," said Mallien shortly, and looking very much relieved. "Well, and what has all this to do with your infernal insolence in asking me for five thousand pounds? By your own showing there will be no trouble about my getting what is mine." "I have told you why I ask for the money," retorted Carrington, tartly. "Don't make me repeat again and again what you already know." "What is that?" demanded Mallien, willfully blind. "You murdered Leigh, if you will have it." "I did not murder Leigh. I had no reason to do so." "Oh, yes, you had. You wanted the will, and remember that Kensit declared----" "Oh, about the disordered papers," struck in Mallien, wiping his face. "What evidence is that, when everyone knows that Leigh kept his study like a pigsty. The papers were no more in disorder than usual." "Sufficiently upset for the policeman to think that a search had been made." "The Coroner and jury thought nothing of his evidence in that respect," said Mallien, with an uneasy sneer. "Because the existence of the will was not known," replied Carrington, meaningly. "Once it is known, a strong motive is supplied for the killing of Leigh." "Rupert had as much reason to murder Leigh as I had.". "I don't agree with you, since he is so scrupulously honest. If the money is yours, you will have it, so why should Hendle murder a man to get what in the end would not benefit him? Now, you----" "I tell you, Carrington, I did not touch the man!" vociferated Mallien. "Bosh! You struck him down and got the will and buried it under the sundial, as you know. Then you made use of Mrs. Beatson to avert suspicion from yourself by sending the anonymous letter telling where it was." "I didn't send the letter," insisted Mallien, looking gray and worn. "You did. You were in Town for a few days, and while you were away, the housekeeper got the letter. Since you had promised her an annuity of two hundred a year, you knew very well that she would give the will to you rather than to Hendle. It was a very clever scheme, Mallien." "You are talking rubbish!" cried the man in consternation, for he saw how strong was the evidence against him. "How can you prove that I was at the Vicarage on that night?" "Where is your opal in the matrix?" asked Carrington, glancing at Mallien's watch chain significantly. "I--I--I--lost it," hesitated the other. "You did, and Hendle found it in my presence near the sundial; on the very verge of the hole wherein you buried the will." The listener made an inarticulate noise and clutched his hair. "It's fate, it's fate!" he muttered. "Everything is against me, yet I am innocent." "Prove that you are so," said Carrington, leaning back in his chair indolently smiling. Mallien hesitated, then seeing that the barrister knew so much, rushed into an explanation, which he would not have made to a less well-informed person. It was as if a dam had broken, so volubly did the words come tumbling out. Carrington listened attentively. "I was at the Vicarage on that night," confessed the visitor swiftly. "After Mrs. Beatson told me I thought that I would get the will from Leigh, since I was not sure if Rupert would act straightforwardly." "Knowing Hendle as you do, why did you think that?" "The most honest of men might hesitate before stripping himself of all his wealth," retorted Mallien sharply. "However, that is not to the point. I made up my mind to go and then I changed it again. I went to bed determined to go in the morning, but, unable to sleep, I decided to visit the vicar on that night. I rose and, putting on my clothes, went out. As I left my cottage, I heard the church clock chime eleven." "Oh!" sneered Carrington, remembering the hour of the murder, "then you did not commit the crime?" "No, I didn't," snarled Mallien viciously. "I got to the Vicarage and, in the darkness of the avenue, I stumbled against a man." "Who was he?" "I don't know. I clutched him by the throat and we struggled. Then he got away and probably wrenched the opal ornament from my watch chain. I missed it the next day, and surmised that I had lost it in the wrestling match. After the man fled I went to the house and peered into the study through the window. I saw Leigh lying apparently dead on the floor, and was seized with fright, lest I should be accused of killing him. I saw my position in a moment, as you may guess." "You should have given the alarm," said Carrington, quietly. "Oh, should I?" sneered the other. "You would have done so under the same circumstances, wouldn't you?" "Perhaps," returned the barrister ambiguously. "I quite see that you were in a very awkward position." "Of course I was. If the fact of the will came to light, I might have been accused of killing Leigh to get it." "Which you did," insisted Carrington, "in spite of this cock-and-bull story." "Hang you!" shouted Mallien fiercely, and clenching his fists. "I tell you I did not. Things happened as I say, and I ran back to my cottage determined to hold my tongue, and let things take their course. That is why I have made no move about the will. The man I struggled with in the avenue was the criminal, and got my opal." "How then did Hendle and I find the opal near the sundial?" "I don't know," returned Mallien moodily. "If you tell the police, I can only repeat the story I am repeating now." "I don't want to tell the police," said Carrington mildly. "My terms----" "I know all about your infernal terms, just as I know that I am in a fix. I am innocent, but it is difficult for me to defend myself against the circumstantial evidence." "Then agree to my terms, and I'll hold my tongue." "What's the use? Rupert knows as much as you do." "Hendle won't speak because of your daughter." "That is true," Mallien hesitated; then burst out, "you must give me time to make up my mind." "I'll give you a week," said Carrington readily, for he did not wish to press the man too hardly. "But no hanky-panky, remember. I hold you in the hollow of my hand." "If I had murdered Leigh," said Mallien, deliberately, "I should murder you, in the hope of saving myself. As it is, I shall take a week to consider your terms!" and the man, with a snarl, went out abruptly. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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