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.