might have hesitated before I
ventured on unreservedly disclosing the whole truth. But I owed it to
Marian to be faithful to my past experience of her, and to trust her as
I trusted herself.

My letter was necessarily a long one. It occupied me until the time
came for proceeding to the inquest.

The objects of the legal inquiry were necessarily beset by peculiar
complications and difficulties. Besides the investigation into the
manner in which the deceased had met his death, there were serious
questions to be settled relating to the cause of the fire, to the
abstraction of the keys, and to the presence of a stranger in the
vestry at the time when the flames broke out. Even the identification
of the dead man had not yet been accomplished. The helpless condition
of the servant had made the police distrustful of his asserted
recognition of his master. They had sent to Knowlesbury overnight to
secure the attendance of witnesses who were well acquainted with the
personal appearance of Sir Percival Glyde, and they had communicated,
the first thing in the morning, with Blackwater Park. These
precautions enabled the coroner and jury to settle the question of
identity, and to confirm the correctness of the servant's assertion;
the evidence offered by competent witnesses, and by the discovery of
certain facts, being subsequently strengthened by an examination of the
dead man's watch. The crest and the name of Sir Percival Glyde were
engraved inside it.

The next inquiries related to the fire.

The servant and I, and the boy who had heard the light struck in the
vestry, were the first witnesses called. The boy gave his evidence
clearly enough, but the servant's mind had not yet recovered the shock
inflicted on it--he was plainly incapable of assisting the objects of
the inquiry, and he was desired to stand down.

To my own relief, my examination was not a long one. I had not known
the deceased--I had never seen him--I was not aware of his presence at
Old Welmingham--and I had not been in the vestry at the finding of the
body. All I could prove was that I had stopped at the clerk's cottage
to ask my way--that I had heard from him of the loss of the keys--that
I had accompanied him to the church to render what help I could--that I
had seen the fire--that I had heard some person unknown, inside the
vestry, trying vainly to unlock the door--and that I had done what I
could, from motives of humanity, to save the man. O