The Pagan's Cup

"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 cup shall be 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, who seemed 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 man whom 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 regarded that 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 the same 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 was not my 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 no unless about 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 which the 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 should have 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 what he has 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.

CHAPTER VIII

HAVERLEIGH'S DEFENCE

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 Jeal has 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 my own 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 ever does return," 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 love for 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's another 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, and you are 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?"