is no need. The police have taken charge of the Case. Your evidence is exactly the same as mine, so I shall represent you at the Inquest."
"Is there to be an inquest?" asked Joyce with languid interest.
"Certainly! This afternoon at the house. From what Inspector Bridge told me it would seem that Colonel Carr was shot on Tuesday night."
"Is the dead man's name Colonel Carr?"
"Yes! Wicked Colonel Carr. From all accounts he was one of the worst."
"Why did he commit suicide?"
"He did not, if Bridge is to be believed. He insists that the man was shot--perhaps by his servant, who has vanished. However we shall hear all that is to be heard this afternoon."
A colour crept into the wan cheek of Joyce. "I should like to get up and hear all about it," said he, "there might be material for a story."
"You can hear details later on. At present you must stay in bed, until we return to Town."
"What about our walking tour?"
"I have decided to cut that short," replied the doctor, "this adventure has given me a distaste for the trip. In a day or so, when you are rested we will return to London. My practice is small but I must attend to it."
"And what about me Jim?"
"Well!" reflected Herrick, "you are now well enough off not to make work an imperative necessity. I think you should go abroad for a time, and do nothing, until you are quite yourself. Explore Italy or Spain, and don't do a stroke of work. Change of scene and company will make you your old self again in a short time."
"Never, never!" moaned Joyce. "I shall never get over her death."
"Nonsense! Don't give way Robin. You must be a man--"
"It was so sudden," pleaded Robin piteously.
"I know. Didn't I attend her! But apoplexy always ends suddenly. Your mother was a stout woman and took no exercise. That fit might have been expected; I warned her often. You know I am sorry for your loss Robin; but sorrow will not bring back the dead. You have your part to play in the world, so you must put this grief behind you. If I talk a little brutally, you must excuse me. To a man of your temperament, sympathy is the worst thing possible."
In Herrick's hands Joyce was more or less of a child, so he submitted--rather against his will--to remain in bed, while his friend went forth to hear the news. As might have been guessed Robin employed his solitude in gloating over his sorrow. This weakness he did not dare to reveal to Jim, fearing lest he should be lectured again. Still, he could not but acknowledge to himself that Herrick's advice was sensible.
Meantime the doctor made a tour of the village. The villagers, swarming like bees in the excitement of the moment, recognised a stranger, and guessed that this was one of the two gentlemen said to have discovered the body. Hence Herrick found himself the subject of considerable curiosity, but was not molested or accosted in any way, until he met with a clergyman. This was on the outskirts of the village, where a gorse-covered common stretched up to the pine wood surrounding the house of Colonel Carr. The parson seemed to have been wandering on the waste land, for he appeared suddenly at Herrick's elbow like a ghost. Probably he had seen the stranger coming and had just stepped out from behind a bush.
"You are Dr. Herrick?" he asked nervously.
Jim signified that he was. "I am, addressing the vicar?" he hazarded.
"The rector," corrected the other. "I am Mr. Pentland Corn. You will excuse my breaking in on your meditations," he continued, "but I guessed that you were the finder of the body of our late lamented friend."
"Humph! From all I have heard, there is very little lamentation over the Colonel's death."
"Scandal and evil tongues," replied Mr. Corn rather tautologically, "Carr had his good points."
"That is what Miss Endicotte says."
"Indeed! I was not aware that you knew Miss Endicotte?"
"She came to the inn this morning to see Inspector Bridge about this--"
"Wait!" said the Revd. Pentland in a hurry, "some mistake. Miss Bess is the journalist. Her elder sister Miss Ida is the head of the family. The nominal head I should say, since Miss Bess manages everything."
The rector smiled as he spoke, and Herrick on account of that smile took rather a fancy to him. The Revd. Pentland Corn--wonderful name--was something under forty; and looked more like a soldier than a parson. He had a smart soldierly figure, wore a moustache, and his hair cropped close. But for his clothes, Herrick would have taken him for a military man. He looked pale, there were dark circles under his eyes, and he seemed to be labouring under considerable stress of emotion. Perhaps the death of Carr had been too much for him. Yet after the first remark he shirked the subject and talked of the Endicottes.
"That is the proper name of the family," said Corn hurriedly, "a very old family in these parts. But Miss Bess calls her collective brothers and sisters 'The Biff's.'"
Dr. Jim smiled. There seemed to be something fascinating about the name, something characteristic of the girl he had met at the inn. "The Biff's," he repeated laughing outright, "and how is that derived from the high sounding name of Endicotte?"
"It is not derived from that at all Dr. Herrick. It is simply the initials of the family. There are five of them. Bess, Ida, Frank, Flo, and Sidney."
"I see; Biff's! Ha! Ha, how amusing. Do they live near here?"
"A quarter of a mile away, at the back of my house. Sidney is my pupil and a strange boy he is. But I have no business to tell all these things to a stranger," added Corn in confusion.
"Anything you say to me is perfectly safe," replied Herrick pleasantly. "I think Miss Bess a clever young lady."
"And as good as she is clever."
"A great friend of the late Colonel's I believe," said Jim.
Pentland Corn moistened his dry lips. "He was kind to her," was his reply delivered in a faint voice. "You will excuse my emotion Dr. Herrick but I am rather shaken by this death. Usually we are free from crime, and for this to happen in my parish! It is terrible.
"You knew Colonel Carr well?"
"Very well. I tried to win him from his evil ways. But he was cut off in the midst of his sin. Oh, it is awful. Yet I liked him. He was a good friend to me on one occasion. The reason I stopped you, was to ask if you met anyone in the house last night."
"No one. Myself and my friend hunted all over it. The servant bolted, I have been told."
"Frisco has certainly disappeared," responded Corn looking at the ground, "but I do not think he is the guilty person. He was devoted to the Colonel."
"Then why did he run away?"
"Ah! who can say! There was a mystery in Colonel Carr's life Mr. Herrick, which I fear will never be cleared up. You will be at the Inquest?"
"Yes. It takes place at three this afternoon. And you sir?"
