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Only as a comparative religion. The children find it far easier to picture reincarnation than resurrection. Those rotting bodies are a great stumbling block for the childish imagination. Why, of course. And may I ask, where is the rotting body of Rowan Morrison? Right where you’d expect it to be in the earth. You mean, in the churchyard? In a manner of speaking. No. In plain speaking. The building attached to the ground in which the body lies is no longer used for christian worship, so whether it is still a churchyard is debatable. But forgive me. I must get back to my girls. Good morning to you. “Here lieth Beech Buchanan, protected by the ejaculation of serpents. ” Morning. Morning. I see you plant trees on most of the graves here. Aye, that’s right. What tree is that? That’s a rowan. And who lies there? Rowan Morrison. How long has she been dead? Oh, six or seven months. They’re just a wee bit late with the headstone. What on earth’s that? It looks like a piece of skin. Why, so it is. Well, what is it? The poor wee lie’s navel string, of course. Where else should it be but hung on her own little tree? Where does your minister live? Minister? Minister. Oh, what a silly girl you are to make all this fuss. It’s just a little frog. It’ll do that poor sore throat good. Now, anyone would think you didn’t want to get better. Now, in he goes. And out he comes. There. Now, that didn’t hurt much, did it? It tasted horrid. Never mind, darling. It’s all over now. Here’s your sweet for being a brave girl. Come on. Which one would you like? There. He’s got your horrid old sore throat now, hasn’t he, poor creature? Can’t you hear him croaking? Can I do anything for you, Sergeant? I doubt it, seeing you’re all raving mad. I’d like to see your index of deaths, please. Do you have authority? No, I meant from his lordship. I don’t need it. I’m afraid you have to get permission from Lord Summerisle. Miss, if you don’t cooperate with me here and now, you may well find yourself inside a police cell on the mainland tonight. Have I made myself quite clear? Please. Thank you. “M.” “m,” “m,” “m,” “m. ” “Benjamin and Rachel Morrison. ” Rachel and Benjamin- names from the Bible. Yes. They were very old. But, there’s no record of Rowan Morrison’s death, which means, of course, there is no death certificate. Did you know her? Yes, of course. Is that her? Yes, that’s her. How did she die? I don’t know. I don’t know anything about her. Nothing. Thank you. Are you mr. Lennox, the photographer? Oh, I’m firstly a chemist, secondly a photographer. I understand that you take the harvest festival photographs every year- the ones I saw in The Green Man. Yes, it’s rather humdrum work, I’m afraid. Do you know what happened to last year’s photograph? Isn’t it with the others? No, no, it’s not. No, apparently it’s been broken or damaged in some way. Oh, what a pity. Would you have a copy of it? Oh, no, I don’t keep copies. Mr. Lennox, you were among the people to whom I showed the photograph in the Green Man. Is that the girl? It’s difficult to say. Oh, come on, man!