arston Greyle, evidently considerably restless and perturbed, and every
now and then looking out on the mob which the fast-spreading rumour had
called together. In one of these inspections he caught sight of
Copplestone, and spoke to Chatfield, who immediately sent one of his
body-guard through the throng.

"Mr. Greyle says will you go forward, sir?" said the man. "Your friend
can go in too, if he likes."

"That's your clerical garb," whispered Copplestone as he and Gilling made
their way to the door. "But why this sudden politeness?"

"Oh, that's easy to reckon up," answered Gilling. "I see through it. They
want creditable and respectable witnesses to something or other. This
big, heavy-jowled man is Chatfield, of course?"

"That's Chatfield," responded Copplestone. "What's he after?"

For the agent, as the two young men approached, ostentiously turned away
from them, moving a few steps from the door. He muttered a word or two to
the men who guarded it and they stood aside and allowed Copplestone and
the curate to enter. Marston Greyle came forward, eyeing Gilling with a
sharp glance of inspection. He turned from him to Copplestone.

"Will you come in?" he asked, not impolitely and with a certain anxiety
of manner. "I want you to--to be present, in fact. This gentleman is a
friend of yours?"

"An acquaintance of an hour," interposed Gilling, with ready wit. "I have
just come to stay at the inn--for my health's sake."

"Perhaps you'll be kind enough to accompany us?" said Greyle. "The fact
is, Mr. Copplestone, we've found Mr. Bassett Oliver's body."

"I thought so," remarked Copplestone.

"And as soon as the police come up," continued Greyle, "I want you all to
see exactly where it is. No one's touched it--no one's been near it. Of
course, he's dead!"

He lifted his hand with a nervous gesture, and the two others, who were
watching him closely, saw that he was trembling a good deal, and that his
face was very pale.

"Dead!--of course," he went on. "He--he must have been killed
instantaneously. And you'll see in a minute or two why the body wasn't
found before--when we made that first search. It's quite explainable. The
fact is--"

A sudden bustle at the door in the wall heralded the entrance of two
policemen. The Squire went forward to meet them. The prospect of
immediate action seemed to pull him together and his manner changed to
one of assertive superintendence of things.

"Now, Mr. Chatfield!" he ca