"Dear Sir," he read aloud, "this is to inform you that my client Sir Simon Tedder has left all he possesses to his nephew Angus Herries, and that he has formally disinherited his daughter Maud Tedder of everything save one thousand a year.--Yours obediently, J. Ritson."
"Well," said Ritson, when Browne closed the book. The doctor shook his head.
"I cannot understand," he said, helplessly.
"There is nothing to be done save to wait. My advice to you, Mr. Ritson, is to be silent until the inquest is over. When Herries hears of his good fortune, he may give himself up."
"You advise him to do that?" asked Ritson anxiously.
"I certainly do. Good-day. We will meet at the inquest," and Browne, in a state of great perplexity left the office.
He certainly was perplexed, as he had never before had such mystery to deal with. Browne was a straightforward man, and liked everything to be done openly. But the underhand dealings connected with this death puzzled him sorely. He could not see his way to any solution, and went home to pass a restless night. Again and again did he ask himself whether Maud Tedder had anything to do with the crime, and again and again did he mutter to himself the strange word "Tarabacca." But to neither question did he obtain any answer. When he rose next morning to go to Desleigh he looked very weary and red-eyed.
But Browne was not fated to be present at the inquest, for just as he was starting he received a message from a very wealthy patient saying that she was dangerously ill, and insisting that he should come to her at once. The patient was too rich to lose, and moreover was extremely irascible, so Browne went to her house, and as she proved really to be dangerously ill, he was forced to remain there for the greater part of the day. It was quite three o'clock when he found himself leaving the Desleigh station to walk along the straight, muddy road which led to the now celebrated village.
The weather was much better, for although the sky was still grey and sunless, the mists had vanished. Browne, walking smartly towards his goal, cast a musing eye on the dismal flats and wide marshy lands which environed the village. He wondered how anyone could live in such a place, and wondered still more why Sir Simon had come to so dreary a locality to meet with his terrible death. As he drew near Desleigh, he met an outcoming throng of human beings, of motor cars and bicycles, and carts and horses coming towards the station. Apparently the inquest was over, and the reporters, and those morbid people attracted towards the inn by curiosity, were returning to the railway, that they might be taken to their various destinations. A close carriage, with the arms of Sir Simon on the panels, drove past at full speed, and Browne had no doubt that Maud and her chaperon, along with Captain Kyles, were within. He felt sorry that the blinds were down, as he wanted to see how Maud looked, and whether her expression was one of triumph. He guessed that it was, as he felt pretty certain that the verdict of the jury had ticketed Angus Herries as a criminal of the worst type. Strange to say, he was so sure of what the verdict was, that he did not stop any of the hurrying people to ask questions.