The Pagan's Cup

"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?"