"It has not been advertised, Mr Marton."
"Pardon me, sir, it has been advertised, and by someone in this place. I saw this notice in the _Daily Telegraph_, also in the _Times_. Can you tell me who "S.T." is, Mr Tempest?"
The vicar took the newspaper handed to him and looked at it in a bewildered manner. He read the notice carefully, but it never struck him that the initials were those of his own daughter. "I really do not know who can have inserted this, Mr Marton," he said. "It seems to be carefully worded, too, and a reward of fifty pounds has been offered.
Dear me!"
"I have a rival who is investigating the case," said Marton, with a smile. "Is the description accurate, vicar?"
"Perfectly; even the inscription. If you will permit me to take this away, Mr Marton, I will see if I can discover who has put it in. I am annoyed that the thing should have been taken out of your hands. But, Mr Marton, before I leave you, let me state to you my conviction that my young friend Leo Haverleigh did not steal the cup."
"Ah, indeed, Mr Tempest," said Marton, eyeing the old man keenly. "And what has led you to such a happy conclusion?"
"I have no grounds for it save my inward conviction."
"There is the story of Mrs Jeal, you know."
Mr Tempest looked troubled. "Most remarkable story," he said. "But we have heard of many cases of accidental resemblances, Mr Marton. I fear I have been unjust to Leo, and I wish to withdraw any charge I may have made against him. I heard his defence, and saw his face while he was making it. Unless the face is not the index of the mind, I cannot bring myself to believe that he lied. No, Mr Marton, I cannot give you my reasons, but I am convinced that I misjudged Leo."
"Were you prejudiced against him by Mrs Gabriel?" asked Marton, for Leo had told him his suspicions on this point.
Mr Tempest hesitated. "I admit that I was," he said at length. "She said something to me which I am not at liberty to repeat."
"Does it make Mr Haverleigh out a villain?"
"By no means," said the vicar, hastily. "What she told me is sad, but not wicked. More his misfortune than his fault. I can say no more. I can keep this paper, Mr Marton? Thank you, sir. Good-day, good-day!" and the vicar walked away, leaving Marton pondering.
It was three days after this, and when Marton was about to begin his investigation of the case, that he received a letter from London. He was more surprised than he chose to say when he found that it came from Mr Pratt. That gentleman gave no address--he had posted the letter at the General Post-office, so that even the district where he was hidden should not be traced. The letter--as Marton said afterwards--was one of consummate impudence, and it took him all his time to read it with patience. As a human doc.u.ment it possessed a certain value. The letter ran as follows, and Marton swore as he read:--
"DEAR MARTON,--So you have let me slip through your fingers again.
Is it not about time that you stopped setting your wits against mine? Several times you have tried; but always you have been beaten. Really, you must take lessons in the art of thief-catching, if you want to deserve the reputation you possess.
"I am bound to say that but for the fog I should have been caught.
But, thanks to its friendly shelter, I ran back to my house, while you were blundering about like a lost sheep, and warned Adam. I knew you would have to get Raston to show you the way, and would be some time. Still, I knew your infernal pertinacity, and made myself as scarce as possible in a very short s.p.a.ce of time. I should like to have seen your face when you came to my house and found your prey had escaped.
"I packed up my jewels, which I always keep prepared for such an emergency as this, and, dressing myself warmly, I mounted my bicycle. Adam, who had likewise made his preparations, mounted another, and we both went down the main road. In spite of the mist there was no difficulty. The highway runs in a straight line to Portfront, and there was no vehicle abroad to make our traveling dangerous. We did not hurry, but took our time, as I did not wish to get to Portfront before the steamer went. As a matter of fact we did, but hung about the outskirts of the town until it was time to be aboard. Of course I do not need to tell you how I stopped you from communicating with the Portfront police. I suggested the idea, and Adam climbed the pole to cut the telegraph wire.
"We had a very pleasant trip as far as Bognor, where we got on the train, and stopped at some station, the name of which I need not tell you. We are now in London in very comfortable circ.u.mstances.
If you are clever enough to find me--which I don"t think you are--I promise to give myself up as soon as you appear. But there is no chance of my seeing you. Better remain in Colester, my dear Marton, and turn farmer. It is all you are fit for. Upon my honour it is.
"One thing I should like to know. How the devil did you manage to find out my retreat? I never thought you had it in you. I went to see Raston on some business likely to enhance my popularity in the parish, and I dropped across you! For the first time in my life I was taken aback. Was it design or accident that I found you there?
I do not wish to compliment you undeservedly.
"Well, you have driven me away, and I must find a new place in which to pa.s.s my old age. It is too bad of you, Marton! On my soul, too bad! I was getting so popular in Colester. Now, I suppose, everyone of the honest men are swearing at me. Yet I never robbed them.
"One other thing. If you came down to investigate that robbery of the cup I presented to the church, you can spare yourself the trouble. I stole it myself. It went to my heart to lose so valuable an object, and I was sorry when I had given it. I could not ask for it back, so I resolved to steal it. I went to the church, and, as I am a small man, I climbed in through the lepers"
window. I got the cup, climbed out again, and went back to my house. Then I was afraid lest the cup would be seen by chance, and all my popularity would go. I therefore resolved to p.a.w.n it. That is a way I have kept safe many a piece of jewellery. I could not go myself, but I sent Adam. He is rather like Leo Haverleigh, and so that fool of a Mrs Jeal made the mistake. You need not look for the cup in Battersea now, as I have redeemed it. I took the ticket from Adam, and went myself. It is now in my possession, again, and I do not intend to part with it any more. You know how fond I am of beautiful things, dear Marton.
"Well, I daresay you guessed that I stole the cup. Here is my confession, and you can tell all those fools at Colester, including the vicar, that Leo Haverleigh is perfectly innocent. He has not enough brains to steal anything. I only took back my own, and I am proud of it, as I have bamboozled the lot of you--clever Mr Marton included!
"Leo got the money with which he paid his debts from Sir Frank Hale. You can ask him--Hale, I mean. If he denies it, I leave him to you, as you are clever enough to get the truth out of him. He wants to marry Sybil Tempest, and desires Leo to marry his sister Edith. All this was a plot to get Leo into his power, and force him to do what was wanted. I hope you will punish the young man Hale. He is a cripple, and has all the spite of one. I should have punished him myself, but you have deprived me of that pleasure. I therefore call upon you to do your best.
"And now, my dear Marton, good-bye. Give my love to all the mourning population of Colester, and especially to Mrs Gabriel, my dear and life-long friend. I am afraid she will not get her rent.
Also I had the house re-decorated at her expense. The bills will be sent in to her. Let her pay them with my blessing. I will write to Leo myself, and give him my blessing. I have much to say to him that will be of no interest to you. He is a good fellow, and I wish to see him married to Sybil. He will be some day. I can manage her fool of a father even at a distance.
"Now, I hope you will look after yourself, for my sake, Marton. So long as the Scotland Yard idiots keep you on my track, I am safe.
If you died, they might perhaps pick a clever man, dangerous to me, my friend. So, with all kind regards and best wishes until we meet.--Believe me, my dear failure, yours never--in the flesh,
"RICHARD PRATT."
CHAPTER XIV
AN UNEXPECTED MEETING
"I have been much to blame," said the vicar. "I set myself up as a judge when I had no right to do so. Leo, you must forgive me."
"I forgive you freely," replied the young man, grasping the hand held out by Mr Tempest. "Appearances were against me, so it was little wonder that you did not entirely trust me. Still, Mr Tempest, you should have known me better than to think me guilty of such a crime."
"I know--I know I have been wrong."
"Well, let us drop the subject. My character is now clear, and I have no wish to recall a very disagreeable past."
This conversation took place in the study of Mr Tempest, and in the presence of Sybil and Marton. The detective had shown the vicar the insolent but welcome letter he had received from Pratt. The confession therein entirely exonerated Leo, and he could again hold up his head. He and Mr Tempest were quite reconciled. Sybil, with her hand in Leo"s, looked thoroughly happy.
"_I_ never lost faith in you, Leo!" she said. "Sooner or later I knew that all would be well."
"I have to thank Marton for the clearing of my character, Sybil."
"Faith, you are wrong there!" said Marton, smiling. "I thought you were innocent; but as I had not looked into the case, I saw no means of proving it. Had not Pratt sent this confession I should still be in the dark. He is a scoundrel, but he is a good friend to you, Haverleigh!"
"I don"t agree with you," said Tempest, sharply, for he was still sore on the subject of the cup. "Pratt knew that Leo was suspected, and he should have come forward long ere this to put the matter right."
"You ask too much from a man of Pratt"s nature," said Marton, dryly. "It is wonderful that he should have confessed his guilt even at the eleventh hour. However, this closes the case, and I can go back to London. We know now who stole the cup, and we know also that it cannot be recovered. Pratt will stick to it this time. It was only his vanity and desire for popularity that made him give it away in the first instance."
"If it came back to me I should never accept it," said the vicar, emphatically. "A stolen cup should never have been put to sacred uses. I wonder at the daring of the man!"
"Oh! a man like Pratt is capable of anything," said Marton, with a shrug. "But you will never see him again, Mr Tempest. And now, Mr Haverleigh, I think you should see Sir Frank Hale and make him confess that he lent you the money."
"There will be no difficulty about that," replied Leo. "Hale told only two people that he repudiated all knowledge of the loan. One was my aunt, the other myself. He is too cunning to tell the world the untruth he told us. Besides, my character being cleared, he can have no further hold over me. I fear he will be angry."
"I am certain he will. Let us see him together."
Leo was quite willing to do this, so after taking a fond leave of Sybil, and a cordial one of her father, he set out with the detective to bring Sir Frank Hale to his bearings. On the way Marton asked Leo"s permission to touch upon a delicate subject. Haverleigh told him to speak freely.
"I owe you too much to take offence at anything you may say," he observed. "You have been my very good friend, Marton."
"Oh, that"s all right," replied the detective, brightly; "and I really do not deserve your thanks. Any help I have given you has been purely accidental. If Pratt had held his tongue, you would still have been in the same position as before. But I am bound to say, Haverleigh, that even before the arrival of this letter Mr Tempest expressed his belief in your innocence."