Ill news spreads like circles on water when a stone is thrown in. Barker, the old sexton, a white-haired, crabbed sinner, was the first to discover the loss. He had gone to the chapel at seven in the morning to make ready the church for early celebration, and on going to the altar he had noticed that the cup was missing. Nothing else had been touched. At once the old man had trotted off to see the vicar, and in a quavering voice related what had taken place, finishing with a hope that he would not be blamed for the loss.
"You locked the chapel up last night?" asked Mr Tempest, sorely distressed, for indeed this was sacrilege and not a common robbery.
"'Deed and I did!" replied Barker, sturdily. "And I took the key home with me. My wife saw me place it on its nail just inside the door."
"Was the church door locked?"
"Fast locked, sir. And all the windows fastened. I went round the chapel to see if I could find any sign."
"When did you leave the church last night, Barker?"
"At nine o'clock, after I made everything right for the night. It was after evening service, if you mind, Mr Tempest. Then I went home and put the key in its place. My Joan and I went then to a neighbour for a bit of supper. We got home again about eleven."
"And the key was still on its nail?"
"Well, sir," said Barker, scratching his white locks, "I didn't look. But it was there this morning; so it could not have been taken away. Besides, my Joan locked the door of our cottage. No one could have got in."
"The cup was on the altar when you left the church last night?"
"On the altar where it ought to be. But this morning it's nowhere to be seen. I hope you don't think it's my fault, sir."
"No," replied Mr Tempest. "I cannot see that you are to blame. But this is a very serious matter, Barker. I did not know that there was anyone in Colester who would have committed such a crime."
"It's terrible," sighed the sexton. "And what that poor lass Pearl will say I don't know."
"She must not hear of it," said Raston, who entered at the moment. "She thinks so much of the cup that in her present state of health its loss may do her much harm."
"Is she very ill, Raston?"
"Yes, sir. Much worse than she was last night. But Mrs Jeal is giving her all attention, and I have sent Dr James. But about this loss, sir?"
"We had better go to the chapel, Raston, and see with our own eyes."
Followed by Barker, still protesting that it was not his fault, the vicar and the curate went up to the church. It was surrounded with a crowd of people, for the news had spread quickly. Some looked in at the door, but no one had ventured to enter, as each one was afraid if he did an accusation might be levelled against him. Mr Tempest told Harris, the local policeman, to keep back the crowd, and entered the chapel followed by his curate. All was as Barker had said. There was the altar covered with its white cloth, and with the withered flowers still in the vases. The gilded crucifix was also there; but not a sign of the cup. It had vanished entirely. Tempest sighed.
"A terrible thing for the man who stole it," he muttered. "This is no common robbery. Raston, let us examine the church."
The two went round it carefully, but could find nothing for a long time likely to enlighten them as to the cause of the robbery. Then in the lepers' window, a small opening at the side of the chancel, Raston discovered that some of the stones had been chipped. "I believe the church was entered through this window," said Raston, but the vicar was inclined to doubt.
"The window is so small that no grown man could have got through," he said.
They went outside, and certainly against the wall and immediately under the window were marks, and scratches of boots, as though someone might have climbed the wall. Also the sides of the window werebroken, as though a way had been found through. The lepers' window was so small that no care had been taken to put in glass or iron bars. Besides, no one had ever expected that the chapel would be robbed. In all its centuries of history nothing up till now had ever been taken from it. And now the most precious thing of all had vanished!
"And during my occupation of the Vicarage," said Mr Tempest. "It is really terrible!"
However, in spite of the loss, he held the service as usual, and as a great number of people, attracted by the news of the robbery, had come, the chapel was quite full. Service over, Tempest returned to the Vicarage, and found Mr Pratt waiting to see him.
"This is a nice thing!" said Pratt, looking annoyed, as well he might, seeing that his magnificent gift had disappeared. "I did not know that you had thieves in the parish, Mr Tempest!"
"Neither did I," groaned the vicar, sitting down. "Hitherto we have been singularly exempt from crime. And now one of the very worst sort has befallen us! Not a mere robbery, Mr Pratt. Sacrilege, sir, sacrilege!"
The American turned rather white as Tempest spoke. He had not regarded the robbery save as a common one. The idea that it was sacrilege placed it in a new light. Yet Mr Pratt was sharp enough to have guessed this before. The wonder was that he had not done so.
"What are you going to do?" he asked, after a pause.
"Raston has sent for the police at Portfront. I expect the inspector will come over this afternoon."
Pratt shrugged his shoulders. "I don't think much of the police," he said. "The metropolitan detectives are stupid enough; but the provincial police—oh, Lord! I beg your pardon, Mr Tempest; I forgot myself."
"No matter, no matter," said Tempest, wearily. "I can think of nothing save our great loss. And your gift, too, Mr Pratt! Terrible!"
"Well," said the American, cheerfully, "if this cup can't be found, I guess I must find you another one."
"The cupshallbe found," cried the vicar, vehemently. "The culprit must belong to this parish, else he would not have known the lepers' window in the chapel. We shall find the guilty person yet, Mr Pratt."
"I hope so," said Pratt, with another shrug; "but he seems to have got away very cleverly. I shall see you this afternoon when you interview the inspector, Mr Tempest. I should like to have a hand in the discovery."
"Certainly, certainly. Who but you, the giver of the cup, should wish to help? Come here this afternoon, Mr Pratt."
As Pratt left the Vicarage he met Sybil, who looked sad. "Don't take on so, Miss Tempest," he said; "we'll find the cup yet."
"I was not thinking so much of that," explained Sybil; "but this morning my poor dear Leo went away."
"When is he coming back?"
"Towards the end of next week. I wonder who can have taken the cup?"
Pratt sneered, an unusual thing for so good-natured a man. "No doubt the Portfront police will tell us," he said; "but I haven't much opinion of law officers myself, Miss Sybil. I once lost a lot of gems in London, and the thief was never found. Are you fond of gems? Come to my house and I'll show you my collection. I have several thousand pounds' worth."
"Is it not dangerous to keep them in your house after this robbery?"
Pratt laughed. "I don't think a thief would steal them so easily as the cup!" he laughed. "I have a good dog and a capital revolver. No, Miss Sybil, I can look after my property well, I assure you."
When he went away Sybil sighed and sought her room. The departure of Leo had left her very sad. She did not know what would become of him. He would pay his debts and then enlist for South Africa. In that case she would not see him again for months. Perhaps never—for it might be that some bullet would lay him low on the veldt. However, for the sake of her father, she strove to assume a light-hearted demeanour. The vicar felt the loss of the cup keenly. And although Sybil thought he had treated her hardly in her love affair, she laid all thoughts of self aside so as to comfort him in his trouble.
As for Pratt, he walked back to his own house. At the foot of the Castle Hill he met Mrs Gabriel, whoseemed to be in a great state of indignation. As usual, her anger was directed against Leo.
"He came to me last night and said that he was going up to London to pay his debts. This morning he went off at seven without taking leave. Now, Mr Pratt, you have been giving him the money to pay his debts."
"Indeed I have not, Mrs Gabriel," said Pratt, quite prepared for this question. "I have not given him a sixpence."
"Then where did he get so large a sum?" asked the lady, anxiously.
"I don't know. He told me that someone had lent it to him."
"A likely story! As if anyone here would trust him with money without a guarantee! Mr Pratt—" Here Mrs Gabriel stopped and her face went white. A thought had struck her and she was about to speak. But she saved herself in time and stared at her companion.
"What is the matter?" said Pratt, anxiously. He thought she would faint, a weakness he had never hitherto associated with Mrs Gabriel.
"Nothing," she replied in a strangled voice. "But Leo—I must see Frank," and without another word she hurried away.
Pratt stared after her as he could not conjecture what she meant. Then he shrugged his shoulders and went back to The Nun's House. That same afternoon he called again at the Vicarage, and there found Mr Tempest in consultation with a grey-haired manwhom he introduced as Inspector German. The police officer, who had a shrewd face with keen eyes, nodded in a friendly manner. "I understand you gave this cup to the chapel, Mr Pratt," he said. "Pity it is lost."
"A great pity," replied Pratt, who was making a thorough examination of the man, and now seemed much more at ease than when he had entered. "I hope the thief has gone away, however. I have in my house several thousand pounds' worth of gems, and I don't want him to come after them."
"How do you know it was a man?" asked German, quietly.
"I don't know," responded the American, with a stare and a laugh. "I only speak as others do. For my part, I believe that there were two people concerned in the robbery—a man and a boy."
"Certainly a boy," replied Tempest, looking up. "No one but a small boy could have forced himself through that window."
"Then you don't think, Mr Tempest, that a woman can have had anything to do with the matter?"
Tempest stared. The idea seemed ridiculous. "I do not think a woman would commit so wicked an act," he said stiffly.
"Oh, as to that," interposed Pratt, "women are as wicked as men, and worse when the fit takes them. But I see what Mr Inspector means. He has heard of Pearl Darry's devotion to the cup."
"It was not Pearl!" cried Mr Tempest, indignantly. "I am sure of that. Why, the poor child regardedthat cup as something too holy to be touched—as it was," added the vicar, reverently.
"Well," said German, after a pause, "I have been talking to your villagers about her. It seems that she was always haunting the chapel and looking at the cup. She might have been seized with a desire to have it for her very own. She is insane, I believe, and insane people have very mad ideas. Also she is small and could easily have forced herself through the lepers' window, of which she would know the position."
Pratt looked with contempt at the officer. He was even more stupid than he had given him credit for. "You can rest easy, Mr Inspector," he said. "It was not Pearl who stole my cup. She has been ill in bed for the last few days and unable to move, as Mrs Jeal and Dr James will tell you."
"I must make certain of that myself," said the inspector. "Will you come with me, Mr Pratt?"
"Not I," replied the American. "I think you are going on a wild-goose chase. The best thing for you to do, Mr Inspector, is to see if any vagabonds have been in the village lately."
"I have already done so," replied German, coolly; "and the villagers assure me that no stranger has been seen hereabouts for some days. However, I am willing to give this girl the benefit of the doubt. But I must see her."
As Pratt still refused to come and Tempest was unwilling to call at the cottage of Mrs Jeal on such an errand, the inspector went himself. He found no difficulty in entering, as Raston was at the door. All thesame the curate was indignant on hearing the accusation. He took German into the sitting-room, but refused—and in this he was backed up by the doctor—to let the inspector enter the bedroom of the sick girl. Not that German desired to do so after an interview with Mrs Jeal. She was most indignant at the slur cast upon the character of the girl she called her adopted daughter. There was a scene, and Mrs Jeal proved herself to be more than equal to the official from Portfront.
"I never heard anything so wicked in my life," cried Mrs Jeal. "The poor child may be mad, but not mad enough to take what is not her own. I wonder at you, sir, that you should come here on such an errand."
"My duty is clearly before me," replied the inspector, stiffly. "Is the girl really and truly ill?"
"You can take my word for that, Mr German," said Raston. "Or, if you do not believe me, here is Dr James!"
"Ill!" repeated the doctor, when the question was put to him. "She had a bad attack of inflammation of the lungs, and she is worse this morning than I have ever seen her. I do not wish her disturbed, Mr Inspector."
"She could not have gone out last night to the chapel, doctor?"
"Not without the risk of being dead this morning," replied James, dryly. "Besides, Pearl Darry is not a thief. No, sir. Whosoever stole that cup, it wasnotmy patient."
"And I would have you know," cried Mrs Jeal, with her arms akimbo, "that I sat beside her the most of last night, and not one step did she stir off the bed."
"Ah, well," said German, who could not go against this evidence, "it is very plain that I am in the wrong. Unless—"
"There's nounlessabout it, sir," cried Mrs Jeal. "Pearl wasna oot o' this hoose;" in her excitement she was falling into the Scotch speech of her childhood. "I wonder at ye, I do that! Hoots, awa' wi' ye!"
Baffled in this quarter, the inspector took his way into the village. First he examined the chapel. Then he started out to make inquiries. For quite three days he exasperated everyone in the village with his questions and suspicions. But for all his worry he was unable to get at the truth. No tramps had been to the village. Old Barker proved his innocence with the assistance of a wrathful wife, and there was not a single person to whom the well-meaning but blundering inspector could point as likely to have stolen the cup. Finally, he was obliged to state that he could do nothing, and withdrew himself and his underlings from Colester, much to the relief of the villagers, whom he had grievously offended by his unjust suspicions. The cup had vanished as though it had been swallowed up by the earth, and no one was able to say who had taken it.
"A grievous loss," sighed Mr Tempest, when he became resigned. "But I sorrow not so much for the theft of the cup as for the awful sacrilege of whichthe thief has been guilty." And he took occasion to refer to the terrible deed in a wrathful sermon. The villagers shook in their shoes when they heard of the ills likely to befall the thief. But not one was able to say who was guilty.
For a whole week things went on much as usual, and the excitement died away. Leo was still in London, and, through Pratt, Sybil had heard from him. He had seen his creditors and had settled all his debts. He was now thinking about enlisting. Before he could do so, however, Sybil sent a message recalling him to Colester to defend his good name.
It so happened that Barker held his tongue for some time, but when the first effects of the fright lest he might be accused passed away, he began to talk. The old man was given to babbling in his cups. Thus it came about that he mentioned that he believed Mr Haverleigh had taken the cup. It seemed that Barker had seen Leo near the chapel, as he was leaving it about half-past nine. Mr Haverleigh, said the old man, had seemed to shun recognition, and had hurried past him. Not thinking anything of the matter, Barker had left him near the chapel door. Now, however, he hinted that Leo might have had some reason to be there at so untoward an hour. Also, he had gone away the next morning early. It was well known in Colester that the young man was in debt, and that his mother had refused to pay his debts. What, then, was more likely, people argued, than that Leo should have stolen the cup, should have taken it up to London before the loss was discovered, and shouldhave sold it to pay his debts? In a few hours this sorry tale was all over the place, and so came to Sybil's ears. It was her father who heard it, and her father who told her.
"But surely you do not believe it!" cried the girl, when the accusation was made. "You have known Leo all these years! Whatever you may have against him, father, you know that he would never commit so wicked an act."
"I say nothing until I hear whathehas to say," replied the vicar, who, for some reason, seemed to be biased against Leo. "But you must admit that it was strange he should be near the chapel at so late an hour. And we know that he is deeply in debt. Mrs Gabriel told me herself that he owed three hundred pounds. In a moment of madness—"
"I won't hear a word against Leo!" interrupted Sybil, pale but resolute. "Not if an angel came down to accuse him would I believe him guilty! How could he have got the key? And if he did not get the key, how could he have forced himself through that small window?"
"I say nothing until I hear his defence," said the vicar, obstinately; "but the whole affair is highly suspicious."
"I never knew you to be unjust before, father," cried Sybil. "Mrs Gabriel has infected you with her dislike of Leo. I shall say nothing myself, although I could say more than you think. But I shall send at once to Leo, and he shall come back to rebut this wicked accusation."
Without listening to another word, Sybil ran off to see Pratt, who was equally indignant. "It is disgraceful," he said furiously. "Leo never would do such a thing, never! Be comforted, my dear. I'll ride over to Portfront this very day and send a wire to him."
And this he did without delay. More than that, he defended Leo heartily when he returned; so did Raston. Hale kept silent. But the majority of the villagers were against the young man. Leo returned in disgrace.
Thanks to the care of Dr James, and the nursing of Mrs Jeal, the sick girl took a turn for the better. In a remarkably short space of time she began to improve, and when Leo arrived back in Colester she was on a fair way of recovery. Although the doctor did not like Mrs Jeal, he could not but admit that no mother could have been kinder than the midwife. She waited hand and foot, day and night, on Pearl, and refused to let anyone take her place, even when she was worn out with watching. In the middle of her trouble she was called away to London.
One day shortly after the theft of the cup she received a telegram from Town informing her that her father was seriously ill, and that she was to come up at once if she wanted to see him alive. Now, if there was one strong feeling Mrs Jeal possessed it was love for her father, of whom she often spoke. Much as she liked Pearl, she was not prepared to stay beside her in the face of such a summons. The old man might die if she delayed.
"I can get Joan Barker in to nurse Pearl," she said to the doctor, "and go at once to London. I may be away a week or two."
"Humph!" said James, running his eye over the telegram. "I suppose you must go; the matter seems urgent. Mrs Barker is not so good a nurse as you, though."
"But Pearl is much better, doctor," said Mrs Jeal, anxiously.
"Yes, I'll pull her through. Well, pack your traps, Mrs Jeal. Myself and Mr Raston will attend to Pearl with the assistance of Mrs Barker. You must leave me some address, though, in case anything goes wrong during your absence. Not that I think anything will; Pearl is mending rapidly."
Mrs Jeal gave an address in a humble Battersea street, and in a few hours was ready for the road. She took a tender leave of Pearl, to whom she appeared to be sincerely attached, and that same morning left for Portfront by a carrier's waggon. When she departed the village was still filled with anxiety regarding the loss of the cup.
As has been said before, no railway had yet opened up the solitudes of Colester and King's-meadows. But those who wished to get quickly to London took the steamer from Portfront, and in a few hours came to Worthing, at which place a train was easily procurable. Mrs Jeal took this route, and having started early she arrived in Town that same night. She sent a wire telling of her arrival to Dr James. He showed it to Sir Frank Hale.
"Quick work," said James; "yet we are far enough away from the world here."
"That's true," replied the baronet. "So Mrs Jealhas gone to Town! I saw her at Portfront when I was there yesterday morning. It is not often she goes to Town. I suppose she does not wish to lose the money."
"The money, Hale? What do you mean?"
"Why, it seems, from what Mrs Jeal told me, that her father is not badly off, and if he dies she will come into a tidy bit of money. There are other relatives, though, and she was afraid lest they should get the old man to leave the fortune to them."
"Fortune!" said James, with a smile; "a large word for a small legacy."
"I don't know so much about that," responded the cripple, snappishly. "From what the woman told me, her father is well off. He was a porter or something in a stockbroker's office, and dabbled in mines himself. It seems he was lucky in his speculations and made money. By the way, James, has Haverleigh turned up yet?"
"No, but I heard that Mr Pratt had sent a telegram to him. I expect he will wonder what is the matter that Pratt should ask him to come back."
"Not he!" growled Hale. "He knows well enough."
"Why, Hale, you don't believe he stole the cup?"
The cripple remained silent for a time. "It is a difficult thing for me to say," he finally remarked. "You know, James, that my sister Edith is deeply in love with the man. I don't like him myself; I never did. But if he would marry my sister I should not decline the alliance. I put her happiness before myown feelings. Well, under the circumstances, I really am not prepared to give an opinion. I know that Leo was in debt, and it is common talk that Mrs Gabriel refused to pay his debts; yet she informed me that he went up to London to settle them. Now, he must have got the money from somewhere, and who would trust him?"
"It looks black against him, I confess," replied James, shaking his head; "still, I cannot believe that Haverleigh would sink to being a common thief. You will see when he returns that he will be able to explain."
"If he everdoesreturn," growled Hale, doubtfully.
"He will. Why, Miss Tempest believes in him, and he must come back if only to justify her faith. I believe those two are in love with one another, Hale. Well, they will make a handsome couple."
"He will have to get back his good name first," retorted Hale, jealously. "And as to there being anything between them—I don't believe it. Good-day, James. Don't go spreading cock-and-bull stories."
As the baronet walked off the doctor looked after him with a smile of contempt. He knew that Hale was madly in love with the vicar's daughter, and that he regarded Leo as a too successful rival. "You'll be delighted if the poor chap comes to harm," muttered James; "you are a viper! But I am sure Haverleigh will clear himself. A girl like Sybil Tempest is not likely to be deceived in the character of the man she loves. I would rather believe her than you, Sir Frank Hale!" And James, who had no great lovefor the spiteful little cripple, walked away to see Pearl.
By this time the opinion was that Leo would not return. It was positive, said the gossips, that he had stolen the cup in order to procure money for the payment of his debts. The most likely thing was that he would clear out of the country.
"What fools these people are," said Pratt, who heard this. "If the man intended to leave the country he certainly would not pay his debts. Only a heaven-born ass would do that. He would take the money himself and leave his creditors unpaid." But the gossips did not see matters in that light. They were bent upon thinking the worst of Leo.
All this time Mrs Gabriel said nothing, but remained shut up in the castle. She knew well enough what was being said about Leo, and could not bear to face anyone, the more particularly as she did not know how to defend him. She denied herself to everyone, even to Pratt, although he called several times to interview her on behalf of her nephew. The young man had a strong defender in Pratt. He went about everywhere insisting on Haverleigh's innocence. In this opinion he was supported by Sybil, by the curate, and, strange to say, by Mrs Bathurst.
"The whole thing is absolute nonsense," said Mrs Bathurst. "Why should Mr Haverleigh be such a fool? Mrs Gabriel would have paid his debts in the long run. And then if he had not wished to pay them himself, he could have enlisted and slipped away to Africa without anyone being the wiser. Then there'sanother thing. He would not commit a crime for such a purpose. If he was in difficulties before, he would not make them worse by putting himself within reach of the law." All of which was common-sense, although Leo's enemies were too much bent on thinking the worst of him to accept such a reasonable view.
It was while matters were in this state that Leo Haverleigh returned. He drove up to the castle one night without informing anyone of his coming. Mrs Gabriel was amazed when he presented himself before her. He looked bright and cheerful, not at all like a man who had been accused of a sordid crime. But it must be remembered that Leo knew nothing of his new reputation. All he knew was that Pratt, at the instance of Sybil, had recalled him to Colester. He thought that this telegram had to do with some new difficulty with regard to his love affairs.
"Good evening, mother," he said as he marched into the room where Mrs Gabriel was sitting. "I have returned, you see."
"And are you not ashamed?" cried Mrs Gabriel, rising, with a wrathful expression. "I thought some feeling of decency would have kept you away."
"Oh, come now, mother," returned Leo, trying to keep his temper, "I am not so bad as all that. If I have been foolish and extravagant, surely you can forgive. Besides, my debts are paid. I am a free man."
"You won't be a free man long," said Mrs Gabriel, grimly. "I am willing to do what I can for you,badly as you have treated me. But I cannot condone a felony! That is out of the question."
Leo stared and sat down. "You use very extraordinary words," he said at length. "I never heard that a man who was in debt could be called a felon. Come, mother," he went on, trying to be amiable—a difficult task with a woman like this. "Don't use big words for a trifle. I intended to enlist, but I thought I would come down first to see you and talk the matter over. You have been kind to me and I do not want to part in anger. Let us arrange matters in a kindly spirit."
Mrs Gabriel looked at him aghast at his boldness. "How dare you speak to me like this," she cried. "Are you not aware that everyone in Colester is talking of your crime?"
"Crime!" Leo started to his feet. "What crime?" He looked bewildered.
"As if you didn't know! I wonder you have the impertinence to come back here! How much did you sell the cup for?"
Leo still looked puzzled. "Cup!" he echoed. "What cup?"
Mrs Gabriel grasped him by the shoulders and shook him, her eyes blazing with anger. "You are absolutely shameless," she cried. "I mean the cup which Mr Pratt presented to the chapel, and you know too! It has been stolen, andyouare the thief."
Haverleigh stared at her for a moment and then burst out laughing. "Is this a joke, mother?" he said at length. "If so, it is a very poor one."
"It is not a joke," retorted Mrs Gabriel, still angry. "The cup was missing on the very morning you went up to London. You stole it, Leo, and took it away to pay your debts. I never—"
"Nor did I!" cried Haverleigh, now beginning to lose his temper. "Who dares to say such a thing about me?"
"The whole village says it, and everyone believes it."
"Does Sybil?"
"I don't know; nor do I care. And so far as she is concerned, you need not think to marry her. Mr Tempest will never let his daughter become the wife of a—"
"Stop!" cried Leo, before she could utter the shameful word. "How dare you call me by a foul name? I know perfectly well you hate me; but you have no right to believe that I did this thing. I know that Sybil believes me guiltless. She would never credit the man she loves with such a contemptible crime. And Pratt believes in me also. He sent me a telegram asking me to come back. I thought it had to do with some trouble you had made over my engagement to Sybil. I never expected this. How dare you accuse me of such a crime?"
"The whole village accuses you," said Mrs Gabriel, passionately. "You have paid your debts. I know you have. Where did you get the money? Not from me—not from Pratt, for I asked him. And Barker saw you lurking about the chapel on Sunday night at a late hour. What were you doing there if it was notto steal? Oh, shame upon you, Leo! How can you stand there and deny your guilt?"
"Because I am not guilty!" cried Leo, furiously. "I tell you I did not steal the cup. I did not even know that it was lost. Iwasnear the chapel on that night and at that hour. I can explain why I was there."
"Explain then," said Mrs Gabriel, with a stamp.
"Not to you, and not until I have thought over my position. Everyone seems to have judged me guilty without giving me an opportunity of defending myself."
"You cannot," muttered Mrs Gabriel. "You dare not!"
The scorn of her speech carried Leo beyond all bounds of prudence. He had not intended to defend himself until he had consulted with Pratt. The situation was so unpleasant and dangerous that he wanted an older and wiser head than his own to deal with the matter. But Mrs Gabriel's taunt made him forget his resolutions. "I dare, and I can!" he burst out. "I went to the chapel to meet Sybil. Her father would not let us see one another, so we had to do so by stealth. I was going away on Monday morning, and she wished for a meeting, as I did myself. In her pew she left a note, and she let me know by signs during the service that she had done so. I looked in the vicar's pew after the service was over, and found that she asked me to meet her at the door of the chapel shortly after nine. I was there, and I saw old Barker going away. I think he saw me, but as I did not wishto attract attention, I kept out of his way as much as possible. Sybil came about half-past nine, perhaps later, and we had a talk. Then I took her back to the Vicarage, and returned here to sleep. I was on my way to Portfront by seven in the morning. That is all I know."
"A likely story," sneered Mrs Gabriel. "I do not believe one word of it."
Leo looked at her with great dignity. "If you do not choose to believe me I cannot make you," he said; "but from this moment all is at an end between us. God knows why you hate me so. I have done nothing to deserve it. What I have told you is the truth. Sybil can vouch for it. I have some hesitation in asking her to do so, as she will have to say that she was alone with me at that late hour, and you know well what the gossips will say. Still, if I am in danger of arrest, she will come forward, although I would rather suffer myself than that she should be lightly spoken of. I shall see her, and her father. For some reason best known to you, Mrs Gabriel, Mr Tempest has taken a dislike to me. But he is a just man, and I am sure he does not believe me guilty."
"You'd better see him and ask," said Mrs Gabriel, tartly. "I say again that I don't believe your explanation. Where did you get the money to pay your debts if it was not from selling the cup?"
"I borrowed it," retorted Leo, after a pause. "I did not intend to tell you, but it seems I must, in order to clear my character. You would not help me, and Pratt was not ready to do so. I daresay if I hadpressed him he would have helped me, but I did not think it right he should pay for my folly. I borrowed the money, if you must know, from Frank Hale."
Mrs Gabriel, who had seated herself, looked at the young man indignantly.
"Why will you tell these lies?" she said, trying to speak calmly. "I had an idea that Hale might have assisted you, and I went to see him. He absolutely denies that he lent you a penny."
Leo looked bewildered. "He denies the debt," said he. "Why he has my acknowledgment! He gave me the three hundred pounds in gold on Sunday morning. I packed it in a Gladstone bag, and took it to London with me. There I paid it into my bank, and gave my creditors cheques for—"
"In gold!" burst out Mrs Gabriel, contemptuously. "Is it likely that in these days a man would pay such a large sum otherwise than by cheque? Why, if you said notes it would be more reasonable, but gold—bah!"
"I tell you he did," said Leo, now thoroughly angry. "I wondered myself at the time, and I mentioned to Sybil how inconvenient it was. I asked Hale for notes, for a cheque, he refused both, and said I must take the money as he chose to give it, or not at all. He gave it to me in three bags, each containing a hundred sovereigns. I paid that into my London bank."
"Oh, I daresay you did," sneered Mrs Gabriel. "But you should have got a better price for the cup."
"You still believe me guilty," cried Leo, recoiling.
"I do. Hale denies that he paid you the money."
"I shall see him about it to-morrow," said Leo. "He will not dare to deny what is the truth. And I leave the castle this very night, Mrs Gabriel. I shall never call you 'mother' again. You are cruel and wicked. Tell me why you hate me so."
Mrs Gabriel's eyes flashed. "If I told you that—" she began, then closed her mouth and turned away.
"Then youdohate me?"
"Yes. With all my soul!" She turned on him like a fury. "I have hated you from the moment you came into my house. All these years I have been on the point of turning you out. Go now, and never darken my doors again. I was a fool to have anything to do with you. Go! Go!"
For a moment Leo stood bewildered at her furious speech. He thought she was mad, for he could not conceive why she should speak so. It was useless to talk or to remonstrate, or to seek an explanation. He looked at her for a moment, then, without a word, he walked away. In another quarter of an hour he had left the castle, bag and baggage.
"Thank God!" cried Mrs Gabriel when alone. "I am rid of him at last!"
Pratt sat alone in his library. He was not reading, for although he had many books he rarely looked into one of them. He collected rare editions, he indulged in gorgeous bindings, and placed all his gatherings on shelves behind glass doors. It was the look of the thing Pratt liked. If his collection had been so many volumes of blank pages he would have been just as well pleased.
As the evening was cold there was a fire in the steel grate. The room looked comfortable and luxurious. It was decorated in dark red, with bookcases of rosewood, and many busts of celebrated men. On the desk stood a reading lamp, and this was the only light in the room. Before the desk sat Pratt. He was playing with a small pile of precious stones which he had shaken out of a leathern belt. The jewels gleamed in the light with rainbow hues, and Pratt fingered them with loving care, recalling where each one had been bought and found. He was crazy about his gems, but never showed them to anyone. Moreover, in addition to his liking for such things, it was a portable way of carrying about his wealth.
The door opened softly and a servant entered. Pratt did not turn his head, for he knew the footstep. Butwhen he heard that Leo wished to see him, he poured the jewels back into the belt, flung it into a drawer and told Adam—that was the man's name—to admit Mr Haverleigh. Adam was a tall, soldierly looking man, of the fair Saxon type. He had been with Mr Pratt for years, knew all his secrets and was absolutely devoted to him. As well he might be, for Pratt had once saved his life. Adam never forgot the obligation, and was Pratt's devoted slave.
"Hullo, Leo!" said Pratt, rising, when the young man entered the room. "Where did you come from?"
"From London, if you want to be precise," said Leo, after shaking hands. "My bag is in the hall, Pratt."
"What? Have you not been to the castle?"
"I have been there, and I have come away. In fact, Pratt, she has turned me out at last. I always knew that it would come to this."
As Leo sat down Pratt frowned, and when he frowned he did not look pleased. "Ah!" said he, calmly, "so she has turned you out—on account of this theft, I suppose?"
"Yes. It is the first I ever heard of it!" said Leo, looking up. "Your wire said nothing about such an accusation. I don't suppose you could very well have mentioned it in a telegram. However, Mrs Gabriel insisted that I had stolen the cup and sold it in London in order to pay my debts. We had a few words on the subject and parted. I am now here to ask you for a bed!"
"My dear fellow, you shall stay here as long as you please. Let me ring for Adam to bring you some supper!" and Pratt touched the bell.
"A few sandwiches and a glass of port will be sufficient," said Leo. "I am not in the humour to eat. By the way," as Adam entered, "I see he has got back?"
"Who? Adam? Yes. Where did you meet him?"
"At Portfront," said Leo, with a nod to Adam, who smiled. "He told me he had been up to London on your business. I gave him a lift part of the way. Didn't I, Adam?"
"I shouldn't have got home otherwise, sir," said Adam, respectfully, and departed to get food for his benefactor. Pratt seemed pleased that his servant was so friendly with Leo. He had a great opinion of Adam's intelligence. Also, Adam was a power in the house—but Leo did not know that. Later on, he learned all about it, to his great astonishment.
"Come now," said Pratt, when Leo had eaten and had finished a glass or two of port. "Tell me about this cup.Didyou take it?"
"I certainly did not!" said Leo, stiffly. "I wonder at your asking me such a question, Pratt! I am not a thief!"
His host laughed somewhat nervously. "I only wanted to be sure, my dear lad," he said. "Don't get angry with your best and only friend."
"I have another friend," said Leo, looking up from the cigar he was cutting, "and that is Sybil. She does not believe that I am guilty."
"Have you seen her, then?"
"No. But I do not want to see her in order to know that. She loves me, Mr Pratt, and would never believe me guilty. No; not though the evidence was twice as strong against me!"
"The evidenceisstrong," said Pratt, rubbing his chin. "You were seen at the chapel, and—"
"And I have paid my debts," finished Leo. "So I have, and I can explain how I paid them; also my movements on that night." And he forthwith related to Pratt the story he had already told Mrs Gabriel. The man believed him much more readily than the woman. But then Pratt liked Leo, and Mrs Gabriel—as she had shown plainly—hated him with all the intensity of her stern and cruel nature.
"You say that Hale lent you the money?" asked Pratt.
"As I told you—in gold."
"And he now denies that he did so?"
"So Mrs Gabriel says. But I shall see for myself to-morrow."
Pratt reflected, staring into the fire. "It seems to be a conspiracy," he said slowly. "I wonder what his game is?"
Leo remembered that Sybil had also been uncomfortable when she heard that Hale intended to lend him the money. A thought flashed into his mind as Pratt spoke. "I believe that Hale is in love with Sibyl," said he.
"Humph! And his sister Edith is in love with you."
Leo coloured a little at this very direct remark. "I believe she is," said he, with an embarrassed laugh; "but I assure you, Pratt, the feeling is not reciprocal. The only woman I have ever loved, whom I shall ever love, is Sybil Tempest. And the course of our true love does not run smooth," he finished, with a sigh.
"A conspiracy," repeated Pratt, who was not paying much attention to what Leo was saying. "Yes! I believe it to be one. By lending you that money Hale hoped to get you into his power, so as to induce you to give up Sibyl to him and marry Edith."
"If he ever did have so ridiculous an idea," said Leo, angrily, "he has thrown away the fruits of it by denying the loan."
"No! The unforseen has happened and he is simply making use of the new development," said Pratt. "You are accused of having sold this cup to pay your debts. If Hale acknowledged that he gave you the money he would take away the motive and would in a measure prove your innocence. That is exactly what he will not do. Unless—" he hesitated.
"Unless I give up Sybil and marry his sister?"
"Precisely," replied Pratt. "However, this is only a theory. You had better wait until you see Hale before you make up your mind. I don't mind making you a bet, Leo, that what Mrs Gabriel says is true."
"Do you think Hale will deny the loan?"
"I am certain of it. I have studied human nature a great deal during a not uneventful life, and if everI saw a crafty scoundrel Hale is the man. I wish you had told me that he was the friend who was to lend you the money. I would rather have found it for you myself than have let you go to him."
"I wish I had spoken out. But it's too late now. And how did I know the man would be such a scoundrel? Not that we yet can be certain that he is, Pratt. Only the worst of it is," added Leo, wrinkling his young brows, "that I cannot now repay the money."
"If he denies the debt you will not need to repay it."
"I shall insist upon doing so when I am able!" cried Leo, vehemently. "But Mrs Gabriel won't help me."
"I will let you have the three hundred pounds," said Pratt.
"I don't see why you should, Pratt. As it is, you are too kind to me. No! I will borrow no more. This interview with Mrs Gabriel has fixed my mind as to enlisting. I shall see if I can't arrange about the money for Hale. I have some jewellery and other things I can sell. In some way or another I'll contrive to get out of his debt."
"He won't admit that you are in his debt," persisted Pratt; "but it is no use talking all night about these things, Leo. You have a friend in me, and as I know you are innocent I'll get you out of this trouble somehow. To-morrow you can see Hale and Miss Sybil."
"I'll see him first," said Leo, grimly, after which speech—ominous of evil—he retired to bed. Wornout with his long journey and by the anxiety attendant on his new position—which was that of an absolute pauper—he soon fell into a dreamless sleep. Pratt remained in the library and for a long time sat watching the dying fire. He also saw trouble ahead, but it had to do more with himself than with his guest.
Since the illness of Pearl, Sybil had attended to the decorating of the altar. Sometimes she had the assistance of Peggy Bathurst. But Mrs Bathurst, still fearful lest Peggy might become engaged to the curate, would not let her come as often to the chapel as Sybil wished. So Miss Tempest usually decked the altar alone. The morning after Leo's arrival she was in the chapel at mid-day with her arms full of flowers. Taking these and the altar vessels into a quiet corner she began to arrange the blossoms. While thus engaged she heard a step. At once she sprang to her feet with the love-light in her eye. She had no need to see the newcomer. Her heart told her it was Leo.
"My dear!" She took him into her arms. "How glad I am to see you again! Oh, Leo, I have so many sad things to tell you."
"I know all, my love," said the young man, kissing her. "I arrived last night and saw Mrs Gabriel.Shedid not spare me."
"Your mother?"
"She is no more mother of mine, Sybil. She told me she hated me; called me a thief, and turned me out of the castle. I shall never enter it again—never! Last night I slept at Pratt's. He was a good Samaritanand took me in. This morning I went to see Hale."
Sybil clapped her hands. "Oh, then it is all right!" she cried joyfully. "I could have told my father that you had got the money from him, but I thought it better you should do so yourself."
"I can't do that without Hale calling me a liar."
"Leo! What do you mean?"
"That in the eyes of the people here I am both a liar and a thief. Hale, whom I saw this morning, denies having given me the money."
"Has he spread that all about the town?" asked Sybil, scarcely able to believe her ears.
"No, he is too clever for that. Now I know, Sybil, why he gave me the money in gold. So that he might be able to deny the debt if occasion arose, as it has done. Had he given me a cheque his signature would have given him the lie."
"But what does he mean by denying that he lent you the money?"
"Well, I'll give you Pratt's theory. I believe it is the true one," and the young man rapidly repeated the conversation he had had with the American on the previous evening. "So you see you were right, Sybil."
"I knew it," said Sybil in low tones. "Do you remember how I told you on the day of Mrs Bathurst's picnic? What is to be done now?"
"There is nothing to be done save to fight," said Leo, fiercely, "and fight I shall. I had intended to enlist, but I shall not do that until I have cleared my name. To leave here now would be to give colour tothe lies that are being told about me. I shall stay with Pratt. He is my friend, and you, Sybil, also. We three will fight it out."
"Mr Raston is also your friend, Leo. He says he does not believe for one moment that you did what you are accused of doing."
"Thank God for that! How can anyone who knows me believe me guilty of so terrible a crime? To rob a church! Think of it, Sybil. Your father? Does he believe I did this vile thing?"
"He suspends his judgment, Leo, until he has heard your defence."
"Alas, Sybil, what defence can I make save state that I am innocent? I cannot make Hale confess that he lent me the money, and I cannot prove, independently of him, that he did so. This morning he coolly denied all knowledge of the loan, but said that for my sake he would not speak of the visit I had made or the threats I had used."
"Did you use threats, Leo?"
"I am afraid I did, dear. But is it not enough to make an honest man's blood boil to be placed in such a position? I threatened to give him a thrashing. But when I remembered that he was a cripple, of course I could not do that. But for all his physical weakness, he is a venomous beast. No, Sybil, without Hale I can do nothing." He paused for a moment, and then went on. "I think the best way to do is to wait," he said. "If this is a plot on Hale's part he will continue to carry it out—that is, he will make some proposition tome about giving you up. I don't suppose he will want me to marry his sister, now that I am called a thief."
Sybil placed her hand over his mouth. "You must not be so bitter, Leo. I will not have you revile yourself in this way. Don't you think you had better see my father?"
"What good would that do, my dear? I can only tell the story I tell you, and as I have no evidence to prove its truth, he probably will not believe me. No, Sybil. It is best for me to remain quietly with Pratt, and wait until Hale makes some move. Besides, Pratt is a clever man of the world, and can guide me. No doubt everyone will be disagreeable, but I must put up with that. I refuse to go away, as though the charge against me were true. You will see me sometimes, Sybil?"
"Whenever I can," she replied; "but it will not be easy. When my father hears that you are back he will be more particular than ever to keep me from meeting you."
Leo mused. "I wonder why he has changed so, Sybil? He used to like me."
"I think Mrs Gabriel said something which has turned him against you."
"Very probably," replied Leo, bitterly; "for some reason she hates me. But all is at an end between us. I wait here, Sybil, to vindicate my character, and afterwards I shall carry out my plan of enlisting. I may be years away from you, but you will be true, I know."
"I swear to be true, Leo! I marry no one but you."
"Not even Hale," whispered Leo, straining her to his breast.
Sybil laughed. "If I disliked him before, think how I hate him now!" she said. "He is acting a mean part. But his punishment will come. Now go, Leo, for my father may come at any moment."
The two lovers embraced and parted. Leo went away much comforted by the belief Sybil had in his innocence. He returned to The Nun's House, and spent the day with Pratt talking over the position of affairs. It was a disagreeable position, and at the present moment he could see no way of mending it. Hale alone could prove his innocence, and Hale refused to speak out. Bitterly did Leo regret that he had ever been tempted to believe in this fox.
The days went by, and the position remained much the same as it was. By this time the excitement consequent on the loss of the cup had died out. Leo remained mostly within doors, as he did not care about meeting the cold looks of those he had known from childhood. Mrs Gabriel gave no sign, but secluded herself within her own grounds. Once or twice Pratt saw her on Leo's behalf, but he could do nothing with her. However, he told Leo to keep up his spirits, that all would come right. But how this alteration was to be brought about he did not say. Pratt knew when to keep his own counsel.
Towards the end of the week Mrs Jeal returned. Her father was much better, she said, and she had come back to look after Pearl. The mad girl was now out of bed, but, as yet, unable to leave the cottage.Someone had conveyed to her the news of the loss—Raston shrewdly suspected Joan Barker—but, strange to say, she was not so upset about it as had been expected.
"The Master has taken His cup to use in heaven," she told the curate, who often came to sit with her. "When he thinks fit he will bring it back again to the altar."
Raston was puzzled by this queer view, but as it prevented the girl from fretting he outwardly agreed with her. Having settled the matter thus, Pearl rarely referred to the loss. She was quite content to wait until the cup was restored. Taking a hint from Raston, Mrs Jeal never discussed the matter. All the same she knew more about the missing cup than the Colester people knew. And it was in this way she explained the matter to Harold Raston.
"Sir," she said one day shortly after her return, "I want you to get me speech with his reverence. I wish to make a statement to him."
"Indeed, Mrs Jeal! What is the statement?"
"It is about the cup, sir. But I prefer to speak to the vicar and to Mr Haverleigh. I hear he is staying with Mr Pratt."
"I believe he is. Some foolish people accuse him of having stolen the cup, Mrs Jeal. I hope you will be able to give us some information likely to lead to its discovery, so that Mr Haverleigh's character can be cleared."
Mrs Jeal screwed up her mouth, and sent out a flash from her wicked eyes. She absolutely refused tospeak save in the presence of Mr Tempest and Leo. Therefore, after a consultation with the vicar, Raston went to see Leo, and asked him to come to the Vicarage. Leo was surprised at the summons, and not very willing to obey it. He resented the way in which he had been treated by Mr Tempest. Still, from what was hinted by Mrs Jeal, he fancied that she might be able to clear his character, so he accompanied Raston to the place of meeting.
Mrs Jeal was already in the study, seated beside the vicar's desk. She was dressed in her best, and looked demure as any cat. Tempest reddened when he saw Leo, and held out his hand. Leo refused to take it. "No, sir," he said coldly; "you have not treated me well. I thought you were my friend, but I find you believe me to be a thief."
"Pardon me," replied Tempest, suddenly growing hard, "I do not say that you took the cup. I refuse to believe anything against you until I hear what you have to say in your own defence."
"I make no defence, Mr Tempest," rejoined Leo. "Sybil believes me guiltless; so does Pratt; Raston also is my friend. I can only wait until I am vindicated by time. Or perhaps Mrs Jeal will prove to you that I did not steal the cup," and Leo looked at the crafty face of the woman.
Mrs Jeal at a nod from the vicar, rose and folded her hands. "I can prove that you did steal it, Mr Haverleigh," she said. "I saw you pawn the cup in London."
For a few moments there was a dead silence. Tempest looked gravely shocked. Mrs Jeal triumphant, and the curate much disturbed. He had been so certain of Leo's innocence that this precise evidence took his breath away. Leo was thunderstruck, and passed his hand across his eyes to make sure that he was not dreaming.
"You saw me pawn what I never had in my possession!" he said quietly.
Mrs Jeal shrugged her plump shoulders. "I can say no more than I know," she said. "Of course, I quite expected you would deny my story."
"I have not heard it yet," replied the accused man, slowly; "and I shall be glad to hear it. At the present moment, I declare most solemnly that I never took the cup. I did not even know it was stolen until I returned from London."
"Where you had pawned it," finished Mrs Jeal.
The vicar interposed. He was struck by Leo's calmness, which was not that of a guilty person. "I think you had better tell your story, Mrs Jeal," he said; "then we can hear Mr Haverleigh."
"I thank you for giving me a fair trial, Mr Tempest,"said Leo, quietly, and sat down with his eyes on the face of the woman.
Mrs Jeal cleared her throat, and in a slow voice began to speak. She rather enjoyed her position, and made the most of it. "But before speaking of what I know, sir," she said, looking at the vicar, "might I ask if it is true that you have offered a reward for the recovery of the cup?"
"I have not done so myself," said Tempest, gravely; "but Mr Pratt, who presented the cup to me, has offered the sum of fifty pounds to whomsoever will give information likely to lead to its recovery. If you know of anything, Mrs Jeal—"
"I'll get the reward," said the woman, a greedy light in her small eyes. "Yes, sir, I do know of something. I went up to Battersea, in London, to see my father, who is ill. He is a retired gardener, your reverence, and has invested his savings in a seed shop. My mother is still alive, and she looks after him. They do fairly well out of the shop, and, of course, your reverence, I give them some assistance, as becomes an only child."
"This is not to the point, Mrs Jeal!"
"I am coming to the point shortly," said the woman, with a look at Leo, who made no remark; "but it is necessary that your reverence should understand how it was that I came to see Mr Haverleigh taking the cup to Old Penny's pawnshop."
Leo could bear it no longer, and started to his feet. "It is absolutely false!" he exclaimed passionately. "I didnotpawn the cup. I never had it inmy possession. I was never in Battersea in my life, and I do not know the name of Penny."
"Better wait and hear the story, Leo," said Tempest in a more friendly tone. He was beginning to be impressed by the bearing of the young man. Even in the face of Mrs Jeal's evidence, he thought Leo might be innocent. After all, the evidence was circumstantial, and that is not always to be relied upon. "You shall have every justice," he said, patting Leo's shoulder.
"I know what I know," said Mrs Jeal when Leo sat down again. "One evening last week I was out late. I had been to get some medicine for my dear father. In Barry Street there is a pawnshop kept by an old man called Penny. I have known it most of my life. As I passed I saw Mr Haverleigh ahead of me. He did not stop immediately at the shop."
"You sawme!" cried Leo, bewildered. "How was I dressed?"
"In a blue serge suit, with a hard, fawn-coloured hat," said Mrs Jeal, glibly. "Over your arm you carried a coat, and under it you had a parcel. It was the cup."
"You are telling a pack of lies!" said Leo, angrily. "How did you know the cup was in the parcel?"
"Wait and you shall hear," said Mrs Jeal, tartly. "I do not care about being hurried. You passed the shop; I recognised you at once and wondered what you were doing in so poor a quarter of the town. Of course I knew that the cup had been stolen, but I neverthought that you had it under your arm. You had a silk muffler round your throat although the evening was warm, and apparently you wished to escape observation. I was determined to find out what you were doing so, I followed you. You went round the block until it grew darker. Then you returned to the shop, and entered. I waited on the other side of the road. In half-an-hour you came out again. You had the great-coat on and your hands in your pocket. After looking up and down the street to see if anyone was observing you I saw you walk rapidly to the end. I did not follow as I was anxious to see why you had been to the pawnshop."
"Why all this anxiety, Mrs Jeal?" asked Tempest, annoyed.
"Well, sir! of course I know that Mrs Gabriel does not approve of Mr Haverleigh's behaviour—"
"That has nothing to do with the matter," interposed Mr Tempest, sternly, and Leo gave him a grateful look. "All you have to do is to state facts."
Mrs Jeal dropped an ironical curtsey. "Very good, sir," said she; "but I must say that I thought Mrs Gabriel had cut off Mr Haverleigh's allowance and that he was pawning some jewellery to keep himself in bread."
"I never pawned anything in my life," said Leo, disgusted at the plain spite of the woman. "Go on, Mrs Jeal. You saw this man Penny, no doubt?"
"I did that!" cried the woman, triumphantly. "I have known him for many years. I went into the shop and into his back parlour. On the table I sawthe cup. Yes, gentlemen, you no doubt are surprised. But it was the very cup I had so often seen on the altar of the chapel."
"It is wholly false!" cried Leo, rising. "I never pawned the cup. Someone must have impersonated me."
"It was yourself, Mr Haverleigh," insisted the woman. "I had a talk with Old Penny, but of course I said nothing about having seen the cup before. I did not mention that I knew you. Penny told me that he had given you four hundred for the cup. It was worth much more he said, and he was chuckling over the bargain he had made. I left the cup in his possession and returned home. Several times I went to the shop to hear if you had redeemed the cup. But it was still with Penny. I then had to attend to my father and gave the matter little thought. But when I returned and heard how you, Mr Haverleigh, had stolen the cup, it became my duty to let his reverence know what you had done with it. And I hear," added Mrs Jeal, with a malignant smile, "that your debts have been paid."
"Who told you so?" asked Raston, who hitherto had been silent.
"Mrs Gabriel. I went to tell her what Mr Haverleigh had done. She said that she expected as much, as she had refused to give him the money to pay his debts. So that is all I know. I am prepared to take my oath in a court of law that this is true."
There was a pause. Then Tempest observedquietly, "If that is all you have to tell, Mrs Jeal, you can go. I will speak to Mr Haverleigh."
"But will I not—"
"You will do nothing," interrupted the vicar. "Go away and hold your tongue, lest you get into trouble."
"You're going to let him off, I see," said Mrs Jeal, with a toss of her grey head. "Well, I have done my share. Good-day, gentlemen," and she sailed out of the room quite satisfied that she had ruined Leo.
When the three were alone Tempest addressed Leo, who sat silently beside the table. "Leo," he said sadly, "I do not want you to get into trouble. If you will confess to me that you did what Mrs Jeal says I will see about getting the cup back and say nothing more about the matter. I will give you money to leave the town."
"I tell you I am innocent!" cried Leo passionately. "Why do you want me to confess a crime of which I am not guilty? I shall not leave Colester. Here I stay until my innocence is acknowledged."
"But the evidence against you," urged the vicar, sorely perplexed. "You were seen about the chapel on the night the cup was stolen. Your debts are paid, yet Mrs Gabriel did not give you the money, and you have none of your own. And now Mrs Jeal says she saw you pawn the sacred vessel."
"I admit that the evidence is strong," said Leo, recovering his calmness. "All the same I am guiltless. I was at the chapel on that night. I was to meet Sybil since you had forbidden me to meet her."
"Please leave my daughter's name out of this," said Tempest, an angry spot on each cheek. He was annoyed at the mention of the meeting, but in the presence of Raston he controlled himself out of pride.
"I can't leave Sybil's name out of it," said Leo, sadly. "I would if I could; but she is as anxious as I am that I should recover my good name. I did meet Sybil, and she will tell you that I left her at the door of the Vicarage before ten o'clock. I therefore could not have stolen the cup. I got the money to pay my debts from Frank Hale."
"From Hale? Then he will say as much!" cried the vicar. "This will go far to prove your innocence, Leo."
"I don't think Hale will help me much," said Leo, coldly. "However, we can talk of that later, or you can see Hale for yourself, Mr Tempest. But I declare most solemnly that Hale lent me the money. As to pawning the cup, I said before, and I say again, that I did no such thing. I did not take the cup. I was never in Battersea, and I do not know the man Mrs Jeal calls Old Penny. If you want to have me arrested, Mr Tempest, you will find me at Mr Pratt's. Far from wishing to run away, I court an investigation."
"Leo," stammered the vicar, restlessly, "I do not want to get you into any trouble. If I can help—"
"I am in the deepest trouble," returned Leo, "and more will not matter. You can have me arrested if you like. I know that Sybil believes me to be innocent, so does Pratt. I do not care for anyone else'sopinion. I think you are treating me cruelly, Mr Tempest, and some day you will be sorry that you showed so little charity. I go now, and I shall not see you again until such time as you give evidence against me in court," and with this last bitter speech Leo walked out of the room with his head in the air.
The two clergymen looked at one another. They did not know very well what to say. Tempest sat down with a sigh. "I do not know what to think."
"I do," said Raston, sharply. "Notwithstanding the woman's story, I still believe that Haverleigh is guiltless. Circumstances have so culminated that he appears to be in the wrong. There is a mystery about the whole of this affair, and it seems to me that Haverleigh has some enemy."
"That may be so," admitted Tempest, struck by this remark. "But what is to be done? I can't have Leo arrested. Even if he were guilty, which I am now inclined to doubt, I cannot ruin his life."
"What we need," replied the curate, "is some clever man who will get to the bottom of this. If you can spare me for a few days, Mr Tempest, I will go to London and see Marton?"