"Such a nice gentleman they say he is," she observed, beaming, "and will be here in a fortnight lodging with Mrs. Jones while the Vicarage is being put to rights. His family come later. Have you seen him, sir?"
"No," answered Rupert promptly; "but my friend and I are now on our way to the Vicarage to see what's doing. We may meet him there."
"I don't think so, sir. He came yesterday to set the men to work and won't come to-day. The workmen are painting and papering the house and digging up the garden and making a nice place of it. Mrs. Jabber remains on as caretaker until the family arrive. She'd like to stay on altogether, but Lord bless you, sir, what would the vicar do with such a slut? He's a much more particular gentleman than Mr. Leigh, I do hear."
Hendle put an end to the landlady's babble by finishing his beer and departing, although the commonplace gossip had distracted his worrying mind for a few moments. As Carrington crossed the square beside his host he ventured a remark.
"Let us hurry on, Hendle, and have a look at the hole by the sundial before the workmen turn up the ground."
"What good will that do?" snapped the Squire sharply.
"One never knows. It is just as well to look round. Who knows but what the assassin may not have left some clue?"
Hendle stared. "What clue could he, or would he, possibly leave?"
Carrington laughed. "Oh, it's only an idea--a silly one, maybe. But I have an idea that we will stumble upon some clue."
"You and your ideas, Carrington. First your walking over your confounded grave business and now the chance of picking up some impossible clue. It's all imagination."
The barrister laughed again, but said no more. Hendle was less amiable than usual, which was scarcely to be wondered at considering what was in his mind. He walked fast enough toward their destination, as if he wished to rid himself of disagreeable thoughts by swift movement. Shortly they came to the rickety gate, and passed up the grass-grown avenue, dank and unwholesome, and not to be warmed even by the blazing summer sun. The surroundings were the same, but the place had lost its uncanny isolating atmosphere, and there was a stir of life in house and grounds, which showed that the place was waking up. Many men were moving in and out of the open doors; there was the noise of conversation and cheerful whistling, and scaffolding was being erected against the ivy-draped walls. Even in the jungle two gardeners were at work cutting down the tall tangled forest of weeds, and opening out the spaces between the trees. Most of the men employed were strangers, but some of the village workers had been pressed into service and these greeted the Squire and his friend respectfully. Hendle nodded absently in return, then strolled through the bare house, watching the ancient paper being stripped off the walls, and the replacing of mouldering boards. Afterward he and Carrington walked into the jungle and, at the far end of a winding path, found the lichen-covered sundial, half buried among luxuriant weeds. It had not yet been disturbed.