Wade reached into his leather briefcase and took out a stamped receipt from the county clerk.

“Arthur signed over the last twelve thousand dollars of the land grant this morning,” Wade said.

“Did he leave any message for the elders?” I asked.

“He asked whether you wanted his gold signet ring put back in the church safe,” Wade said.

“Tell him he can hang on to it,” I said, putting the glass coffee pot back on the burner.

Wade stayed behind to lock the hall doors at three o’clock, so I walked across the gravel driveway to the rectory by myself.