The Pagan's Cup Read online

  CHAPTER XI

  THE LONDON DETECTIVE

  Sybil had seen Leo go into the room where her father was waiting withMrs Jeal, and wondered what the woman had to do with her lover. She wascalled out to see a sick woman on behalf of her father, and on her wayhome bethought herself how she could see Leo. The girl was in a perfectfever of nervous fear for the young man. Then it struck her that thebest thing to do would be to call at Mr Pratt's. No sooner had she madeup her mind to brave her father's anger in this respect than she went atonce to The Nun's House. She feared if she delayed that her couragemight evaporate.

  The door was opened by Adam, who explained that Mr Pratt was from home."He went into Portfront to-day, miss," said Adam. "I only hope he willbe able to get back this night, as there is a sea-fog coming up theChannel."

  "There is no danger of his losing the road, Adam," said Sybil,cheerfully; "but I don't want to see Mr Pratt. It is Mr Haverleighwho--"

  "He is in the library, miss," replied Adam, and admitted her into thehouse. When Sybil found herself alone with Leo she had a qualm. Whatwould her father say should he ever come to know that she had paid sucha visit?

  Leo was seated at the desk, his face hidden in his arms, looking mostdejected. He lifted his head as she entered, and, at the sight of hisface, Sybil forgot all about her father and the impropriety of thevisit. At once she ran to her lover, and drew his head down on to herbreast with a look of almost divine pity. "My darling Leo," she said, "Iknew that you were miserable, and I have come to comfort you."

  "How good of you, dear!" replied Haverleigh, stroking her hair; "butyour father? I did not think he would let you come to me."

  "My father does not know that I am here," said Sybil, blushing, as heplaced a chair for her; "but I knew you had been to see him, and I couldnot rest until I heard all about the interview. Was he very angry?"

  "No; I think he is inclined to believe in my innocence in spite of MrsJeal's story. And Heaven knows she has painted me black enough!"

  "I wondered what Mrs Jeal was doing at the Vicarage, Leo; I don't likethat woman. She looks sly and wicked. But what story can she have totell about you, dear?"

  "Sybil, she says that she saw me pawning the cup in London," and whileSybil, filled with surprise, sat looking at his agitated face, Leo toldall that Mrs Jeal had said. "So you see, dear," he continued, "thatthere is some sort of conspiracy against me. I believe Hale is in ittoo."

  "It is a strange story," she said musingly. "I wonder who it was couldhave impersonated you? Did the man give your name?"

  "By Jove!" cried Leo, starting up, "I never thought of asking. Yet therascal must have given it for the pawn-ticket. Sybil, I can't helpthinking that Hale knows something about this. He saw me in the chapelan hour ago and said that he would make a statement to the effect thathe had paid me the money if I would give you up and marry his sister."

  Sybil's eyes flashed. "How dare he?" she cried. "He wants to drive youinto a corner, Leo. What did you say?"

  "I refused to have anything to do with him, dear. He can join with yourfather in having me arrested for all I care. I would rather that thangive up my Sybil! But you see the position. What is to be done?"

  "Can't you go to London and see this man Penny?"

  "No. I dare not leave the place. Your father and the others would thinkthat I was seeking safety in flight. I might be arrested before I got asfar as Portfront. I don't say that your father would go so far but thereis always the chance. I am sure Mrs Gabriel would not counsel mercy. Forsome unaccountable reason she hates me thoroughly."

  "My poor Leo!" Sybil stroked his cheek. "Fate is very cruel to you. Butnever mind. In spite of everything I will be true to you. And what ismore, Leo, I'll help you to prove your innocence."

  "How can you do that, my love?"

  She pursed up her pretty mouth, and, crossing her slender feet, lookedon the ground with an air of portentous gravity. "I don't believe thisstory of Mrs Jeal's," she said; "there is something behind it. As youcannot go to London--and I see it would be foolish of you to go awayfrom Colester at present--we must do the best we can through thenewspapers."

  Leo looked at her in surprise, and knelt beside her. "What can we dowith the newspapers, darling?"

  "Put an advertisement in every London daily paper saying that the cuphas been lost, giving a description, and offering a reward if anyinformation is given to _me_."

  "To _you_, Sybil! What would your father say?"

  "He won't know. Besides, Leo, darling, you are more to me even than myfather, and I am angry at the unjust way in which you are being treated.I will write out a number of these advertisements, and send them up withpost-office orders. The replies to be sent to 'S. T. ColesterPost-office.'"

  "But what good will that do?"

  "Oh, you stupid darling! I have to think for two, I see. Why, thispawnbroker--what is his name?--Penny. Well, if Penny sees theadvertisement, he will recognise the cup from the description, and knowthat it has been stolen. He will be afraid of getting into trouble withthe police, and he no doubt will write saying that the cup was pawnedwith him and that he will be willing to sell it back for the pricepaid. Then we'll get it back, Leo. When I am certain, I'll tell myfather, and he will arrange about buying it again."

  "Yes. But how does all this benefit me?"

  "This Penny creature will explain who pawned it, and he will give thename of the person Mrs Jeal said resembled you. He might do that if thematter were made public by advertisement. If we approach him privatelyhe will very likely deny everything. We can't be too careful, Leo."

  "But the reward," said Haverleigh, puzzled. "I have no money; you haveno money. What will you do?"

  "When the cup is back, or if information is given likely to recover it,I am sure my father can arrange about the money with Mrs Gabriel. Now donot say a word, Leo. She has nothing to do with you now. And, afterall," added Sybil, naively, "I don't see why any money need pass. Thisis a trap I am laying for that pawnbroker. That is if Mrs Jeal's storyis true, which I am inclined to doubt. I'll put the advertisement in onchance, Leo, and see what comes of it."

  "But it is such a mad idea," remonstrated the young man, who could notfollow all these feminine arguments. "Let me tell Pratt about yoursuggestion. He will be able to advise us."

  Sybil rose to her feet and shook her head obstinately. "If you say aword to Mr Pratt I'll never forgive you. Let me try this experiment allalone, Leo, dear. It can do no harm, and it might do a lot of good. Wemust not tell anyone about it."

  "Sybil, I kept the fact of my borrowing that money from Hale a secret,and I have regretted it ever since. Let us ask Pratt's advice."

  "No, Leo." Sybil was still obstinate. "I want to try this myself. If itfails it can do no harm, and if it succeeds I shall have the joy ofknowing that it was I who got you out of this trouble. Now promise notto tell!"

  At first Leo refused. He did not want Sybil to mix herself up in thisdisagreeable case even for his sake. But she used such endearments, andkept to her point with such pertinacity, that he gave in. It was uselessto contend against Sybil when she set her heart on getting anything. Shenever would give in, however discouraged. Therefore, before she left thelibrary, she had drawn out an advertisement with the assistance of Leo,in which the appearance of the cup and its Latin inscription werecarefully set down. A reward of fifty pounds was offered, and theanswers were to be sent to S. T., at the Colester Post-office.

  "There!" said Sybil, when this document was completed, "I have set mytrap. Now we shall see who will fall into it. I'll make a dozen copiesat once, and have them sent off by to-morrow. Not a word, Leo, aboutthis."

  "I will be silent, as I have promised. All the same, I do not feelcomfortable about your experiment. To tell you the truth, Sybil, I can'tsee the sense of it. Now, don't look angry, dear. I know it is all doneout of love for me."

  "I am not sure that you deserve my love," pouted Sybil as he escortedher to the door. "You place all kinds of obstacles in my way!"

>   She was rather angry, for her heart was fully taken up with themagnificence of her scheme. However, Leo managed to calm her, and gainher forgiveness. He was quite unaware of what he had done wrong. ButSybil said that he had behaved disgracefully, so he apologised. Then shesaid that she was a wicked girl, and after kissing him ran away. Allthis was very foolish, but very sweet. Leo often recalled that interviewto her in after days, and they both agreed that they behaved like twomost sensible people. But at present Leo was too sad to enjoy the stolenmeeting as a true and loyal lover should have done.

  That same night the sea-fog rolled up thick and white. Mr Pratt did notreturn home, at which non-arrival Adam was not surprised. Mr Pratt wastoo fond of his creature comforts to drive twenty miles through a dampand clinging mist. Leo had the whole house to himself, and Adam, whothought a good deal of him, did his best to make him comfortable. Heconsulted with the cook and gave Leo a capital little dinner, togetherwith a bottle of superfine Burgundy. Then he supplied him with cigars ofthe best and coffee of the finest, and left him comfortably seatedbefore the drawing-room fire. Under these circumstances Leo felt happierthan he had expected, seeing at what a low ebb his fortunes were.

  The position of the unfortunate young man was undeniably hard. Here hewas, deserted by his aunt, Mrs Gabriel. She had taken him up, broughthim up to expect a large fortune, and then, for no cause at all, hadsuddenly cast him out on the world to earn his own living as best hecould. And in addition to this, although it was hardship enough, poorLeo's character was gone. He was accused of a sordid crime, and mighthave to answer for it to the law. He did not see what defence he couldmake. Certainly, if he acceded to Hale's terms, he could vindicate hisposition in some measure by accounting for the sum of money he had usedto pay his debts. But in this case Sybil would be lost to him. And whatwould life be without Sybil? Altogether, Leo was in low spirits, inspite of the fire and the Burgundy, and the memory of that charminginterview. But it was no use lamenting, as he very truly observed tohimself, so he tried to shake off the feeling of depression and went tobed. He was young, the world was large, and he hoped in some way oranother to sail out of these troubled waters into a peaceful haven. Hopewas the silver lining to his cloud of black despair.

  Meanwhile, Raston had written to his friend Marton a full account of theloss of the cup, of the accusation by Mrs Jeal of Leo, and of thesuspicions entertained by the villagers concerning the probity of theyoung man. For some days he heard nothing. Then one evening Martonhimself arrived unexpectedly at Colester. He went at once to thecurate's lodgings and was received with great surprise.

  "My dear Marton, this is an unexpected pleasure," said Raston, assistinghis distinguished visitor to pull off his coat. "I thought you wouldhave written to me about your visit to Penny."

  "I didn't go there," replied Marton, with a laugh. "The fact is, Harold,I cannot quite understand this case. You have not explained mattersclearly enough in your letter. I have set a detective to watch Penny andPenny's shop, and I have come down to hear all details from your ownworshipful lips. But what a foggy sort of place you have here! I havebeen driving in your mail-coach through a kind of cotton-wool. The guardthought we would never reach Colester. I felt like a character ofDickens in that coach. You are a primitive people here. Do you know Irather like it!"

  Marton was a tall, slim, black-haired man, neatly dressed in a tweedsuit. He constantly smoked cigarettes, and maintained a perfectly calmdemeanour. No one ever saw Marton excited. His face was clean-shaven,and his grey eyes were sharp and piercing. He looked what he was, athorough gentleman, and a remarkably shrewd, clever man. His fame as adetective is so well known that it need hardly be mentioned.

  "I must get you something to eat," said Raston.

  "No. I dined at Portfront before I left. Give me a glass of port, and Ican smoke a cigarette. This fire is comfortable after the fog."

  "I have some excellent port, Marton. My dear mother is under theimpression that I am delicate, and keeps me well supplied from myfather's cellar. I don't know what he says to it."

  "Being a clergyman, you had better not know," said Marton, dryly. "Yourfather had a vocabulary of--There, there, I'll say nothing more. I wantmy port, my cigarette, and a full account of this case. It seems to bean interesting one. I shouldn't have come down otherwise, even for yoursake, my dear Harold. I have just twice as much business on hand as Ican do with. The detective life is not a happy one."

  Raston poured out a glass of port and placed it at Marton's elbow. Hewatched his friend light a cigarette, and himself filled his well-wornbriar. Then, when they were comfortably established, he related all thathe knew about the case. Marton listened with his eyes on the fire, butmade no observation until the recital was finished. Indeed, even then hedid not seem inclined to talk.

  "Well?" said Raston, rather impatiently. "What do you think?"

  "Wait a bit, my friend. It is a difficult case. I am not prepared togive you an opinion straight away. I must ask something about the peopleconcerned in it first. This Leo Haverleigh? What about him?"

  "He is a good man, and perfectly honest. I should as soon have suspectedmyself of stealing the cup as Leo. And I have known him for some time."

  "Well, if anyone ought to know the truth about a man's character Ishould think a clergyman was the person," said Marton. "Is it not Balzacwho says the clergy are all in black because they see the worst side ofhuman nature? Humph! Have you had to put on mourning for thisHaverleigh?"

  "No. He has been a trifle wild, and has got into debt; but otherwisethere is nothing wrong about him. Besides," added the curate, "MissTempest is in love with him, and they are engaged. She is a noble girl,and would not love a scoundrel."

  "Ah!" said Marton, cynically, "I have seen a remark of that sort innovels, my good man. In real life--But that is neither here nor there. Ishould like to meet this young man."

  "I can take you with me to-night. He is staying with Mr Pratt at TheNun's House. It is no very great distance away."

  "I can wait till to-morrow, Harold. I have no very great desire to goout into this dense fog. By the way, who is this Mr Pratt?"

  "A newcomer to Colester. He has been here off and on for the last fewmonths, and has decided to settle here. He is well off, and hastravelled a great deal. His house is beautifully furnished."

  "Quite an acquisition to the neighbourhood!" said Marton, drowsily. "Imust make the acquaintance of your people here to-morrow. Just now Ifeel inclined to go to bed."

  "But tell me your opinion of this case?"

  "Well," said Marton, thoughtfully, "from all the evidence you give me itseems that Haverleigh is guilty."

  "No, Marton," replied the curate, "I'll never believe that. And youforget that he claims to have obtained the money from Sir Frank Hale."

  "Well, then, his possession of three hundred pounds is easily proved. Ishall see Sir Frank Hale and question him. With regard to this Mrs Jeal,her story seems credible enough. I don't suppose she has any enmityagainst Haverleigh?"

  "No. But she is a woman I neither like nor trust. A demure, cat-likecreature, with a pair of wicked eyes."

  "You make me long to see her," said Marton, waking up. "That is just thesort of person I like to meet. Do you think she may have stolen this cupherself, and have invented this wild story to account for the loss? Ihave heard of stranger and even more daring things."

  "No. That is out of the question, Marton. On the night the cup wasstolen Mrs Jeal was watching beside this sick girl--the mad creature Ihave told you about. She is innocent."

  "Then I can only say that young Haverleigh seems to be the most likelyperson. Only, the evidence against him is so plain that I believe him tobe guiltless. I always mistrust too plain evidence, Raston. It showssigns of having been prepared. Well, I'll see this young man to-morrow,and have a chat. I go by the face a great deal. Have you a photograph ofhim?"

  "No," said the curate on the spur of the moment. "Oh, yes, by the way! Itook a group of our people at a picnic. It is not
a bad picture,although small. You can see the whole lot at a glance."

  Raston got out the photograph, and Marton went to the lamp to see it themore plainly. He glanced at first carelessly at it, then his eyes grewlarge, his attention became fixed. At that moment there was a ring atthe door. Marton looked at the clock. "You have a late visitor," hesaid.

  "A call to see some sick woman probably. Why do you look so closely atthat picture, Marton?"

  "There is a face here I know. Who is that?"

  Raston looked. "That is the man with whom Haverleigh is staying. Pratt!"

  "Pratt?" repeated Marton in a thoughtful tone. "Has he a tattooed staron his cheek just under the cheek bone?"

  "Yes. And he is tattooed on the arm also--the right arm. I expect he hadit done while he was a sailor."

  "Oh!" said Marton, dryly, "he says he was a sailor."

  "Not to my knowledge; but he has mentioned something of being an amateurone. Do you know him, Marton?"

  "If he is the man I think he is, I know him better than you do, Raston!"

  "Then who is--" Raston had just got thus far, when the landlady openedthe door to announce Mr Pratt. "Here is the man himself, Marton."

  "Marton!" echoed Pratt, who was standing in the doorway.

  "Yes, Mr--Angel," said Marton, looking straight at him.

  Pratt stood for just half a moment as though turned into stone. Then heturned on his heel, and went out of the door and down the stairs asswiftly as he was able. Without a word Marton darted after him. By thetime he reached the street door Pratt had disappeared in the fog.