Half-an-hour later and Lord Kilspindie was back in the Vicarage library with Janet Grant, or, as it may be more convenient to call her, Mrs Jeal. Mr Tempest was present, together with Leo and Mr Raston, and they had assembled to force the truth out of Mrs Jeal. This was no easy matter. All the evil in the woman was uppermost, and with her shawl wrapped round her tightly she sat there and defied them all.  
"You may burn me, you may put me in prison," said Mrs Jeal, , "but I won't open my mouth."
 
"I'll have you arrested unless you tell the truth," said Lord Kilspindie.
 
"Arrest me, then," Mrs Jeal. "There's a policeman handy, my lord."
 
"Why are you behaving like this, woman?" asked the vicar, sternly.
 
"Why!" she retorted violently. "Because I was badly treated by my lord there. I served him faithfully for many years, yet, in place of giving me the position to which I was entitled, he set another woman—a woman I hated—over my head. But I paid him out," she said revengefully. "Oh! many a sad hour you have had, my lord! And many more you will have. I know where your son is; but I won't tell. You have got back the cup, but the son, my Lord Morven," she , "will remain in the position in which I have placed him."
 
"Something is gained," said Kilspindie. "You have revealed that my son is alive and well. I'll get the rest out of you."
 
"Never!" Mrs Jeal shut her mouth with a snap and shook herself. "I'll not speak another word!"
 
"What a wicked woman you are," said the vicar, sadly. Mrs Jeal's eyes flashed a wicked glance at him, but, true to her determination, she held her peace. It seemed impossible to do anything with so pronounced a vixen.
 
Hitherto Raston had been silent. Now he came forward. "I am able to deal with this matter," he said quietly, "and I have a way of making the woman speak."
 
Mrs Jeal shook her head and glared. The vicar and Kilspindie both looked at the curate. So did Leo. He was beginning to have a faint hope that the scene would end in the discovery that he was the rightful son of Lord Kilspindie. With an anxious face he sat in the corner and drank in eagerly every word which fell from Raston's lips. Mrs Jeal maintained her self-imposed silence.
 
"Mr Tempest," said Raston, "when I asked you if I might go to London, I did not tell you my errand. I tell it to you now. It was to see the man known as Pratt."
"What!" exclaimed the vicar. "You saw that man!"
 
"Two days ago. He wrote asking me to see him, hinting that he had something to tell about the cup."
 
"Which he stole," said Kilspindie.
 
"No, my lord. Pratt did not steal the cup. He took the blame upon himself, so as to clear the name of my friend Haverleigh."
 
Both the old men looked at Leo, who .
 
"Are you sure of that?" asked the vicar. "Pratt wrote to Marton, remember."
 
"To take the blame upon himself. Quite so. But he was not guilty for all that. His record was so black when Marton unmasked him that he thought a crime more or less would not matter."
 
"But why should he shield Haverleigh?" asked Mr Tempest.
 
Leo started forward. He saw that the time had come for him to speak out. "I can answer that," he said. "Pratt told me that I was his son."
 
Tempest uttered an . "You must be mistaken," he said; "Mrs Gabriel informed me that you were illegitimate."
 
"That would not have made any difference," said Leo, bitterly. "I might as well be the illegitimate son of Pratt as of anyone else. As a matter of fact, however, he told me that I was born in . His wife—my mother—died, and he placed me with Mrs Gabriel to bring up. She believed that I was a nameless , and what she told you, Mr Tempest, was true so far as she knew. Her telling was none the less spiteful, however. It was that which made you that I should marry Sybil."
 
"Yes," said the vicar, with a flush. "I did not like to think that a daughter of mine should marry a nameless man."
 
"And you visit the sins of the parents on the head of their innocent offspring," said Leo. "You have not treated me well, Mr Tempest. You thought me guilty of theft; scorned me because I was nameless! Is this the conduct of a minister of the Gospel?"
 
The grey head of the vicar . "I admit that I have been wrong, Leo," he said in a tone. "You have your character. I ask your pardon. And more," said he, when Leo grasped his hand, "even although there is a stain on your birth—"
 
"No," said Leo, "I don't want you to yourself to anything. Wait till this mystery is cleared up. At present, so far as I know, I am the son of a criminal. If that is true, I should refuse to marry Sybil."
 
Here Mrs Jeal burst out into a laugh. Lord Kilspindie frowned upon her, and took Leo's disengaged hand. The vicar held the other. "You are a good man, Haverleigh," said his lordship, far from suspecting the truth. "I wish I had you for a son," and Mrs Jeal laughed again.
 
When quiet was restored, Raston went on with his story. "First," he said, "I must tell you how I recovered the cup. I went up and met Pratt. As I promised not to deliver him into the hands of the law, much as he deserved punishment, he to me freely and I was with him three hours. I do not know if I was right in letting such a dangerous criminal escape," said the curate, looking round, "but if I had given information to the police I should never have heard the truth about Leo, nor should I have secured the cup."
 
"Then I am not his son?" cried Leo, eagerly.
 
"No. Pratt gave me his word for that. Who you are you shall hear presently." Here Raston gave a glance at Mrs Jeal, who was moving her hands restlessly and seemed to be ill at ease. "Meantime I must go on with the story of the cup. It seemed that Pratt knew the Penny, and having learnt from Mrs Jeal's story that he had the cup, he went to get it back and to learn who had it."
 
"And who did?" asked the vicar, sharply.
 
Raston gave the answer he least expected. "Mrs Jeal pawned it," said he.
 
The woman sprang to her feet and found her tongue. "It is a lie!" she shouted, furious with rage; then she made a rush for the door. Lord Kilspindie put his hand on her shoulder and forced her back into the chair.
 
"I am beginning to suspect the truth," he said sternly. "Sit still or I will have you punished."
 
She and relapsed into a dogged silence. Raston went on to tell how the cup had been stolen. "It seems that when Pearl Darry was ill," he said, "this woman watched by her bed. The poor, mad creature was and about the cup. Mrs Jeal persuaded her that she would be eternally punished, what for Heaven only knows—"
"She is a child of sin," Mrs Jeal.
 
"She is as pure and good as an angel," cried the curate, frowning. "It is you who are the evil doer, Mrs Jeal! Well, Mr Tempest, the girl thought in her half-delirious state that she would test the goodness of God. She proposed to take the cup out of the and place it on an altar of turf which she had prepared on the . It was her idea that if God wished to save her, He would take the cup up to Heaven, and then replace it at a later date on the altar. She, therefore, while Mrs Jeal was absent, dressed herself and ran out of the house. She went to the house of old Barker the sexton. His door was not locked—he told a lie about that to save himself—and she knew where the key of the church hung. It was in her hand in a moment, and she went to the church sometime about ten o'clock. She entered and took the cup. Then she replaced the key on its nail after relocking the door."
 
"One moment," interrupted Mr Tempest; "those scratches on the lepers' window—we thought, if you remember, that the robber had entered that way."
 
"I shrewdly suspect that old Barker made those scratches to save his own skin," said Raston. "You had better ask him." And it may here be mentioned that the vicar did, and learned that what Raston said was true. The old sexton, finding the cup gone, feared lest he might be accused of the robbery, and so conceived the idea of making marks as though someone had entered at a window which his fat body could not possibly have squeezed through. It was a clever idea and misled all. But old Barker was punished by being sent to Portfront after he had confessed.
 
"It was when Pearl left Barker's cottage with the cup that Mrs Jeal met her," went on the curate. "She had missed her out of bed, and thinking that the mad girl had gone to the chapel, followed. She met her at the door of the cottage and saw that she had the cup. It was then that the idea came into her wicked head to steal the cup."
 
"It's a lie!" cried Mrs Jeal again.
 
"It is what you told Old Penny, anyhow, as he is prepared to swear in court," said the curate, coolly. "He would not give you what you asked for the cup until you told him where you got it. For a wonder, you told the truth. Yes, Mrs Jeal, you followed Pearl on to the moor and saw her set the cup on the turf altar. Waiting till she got back to your cottage, you took the cup and it under your shawl. You took it home, and found the girl back again in bed, very ill from the effects of exposure. For a time you nursed her while the and cry was being made about the cup. Then you made the excuse that your father was ill and went to London. You have no father, Mrs Jeal, and Old Penny, in answer to a letter of yours, sent the wire. You told him you had something for him, and so he aided you with your plot. You took the cup to London, pawned it to Old Penny after telling him the story, and got five hundred pounds for it."
 
"I did not—I did not!" Mrs Jeal tried again to rise, and again had to remain; Lord Kilspindie kept his heavy grip on her shoulder. In his rage at her duplicity he could have her, but he spared her for the moment that he might learn the truth. After many years of darkness dawn was breaking. Mrs Jeal saw that the end was in sight and began to .
 
"Then," continued Raston, "you banked the money and came down to tell that wicked lie about Leo Haverleigh. You know that he was never near the place—that he was innocent and that you were guilty. However, Pratt got all this out of Old Penny, and then gave him the five hundred pounds for the cup. He took it to his own place, and when I was with him he handed it to me."
 
"Come," said Kilspindie, "there is some good in the man."
 
"He has to make reparation to you, my lord," said Raston, solemnly, "for he is this woman's husband, and it was by his direction that your son was stolen. Yes," here the curate to Leo, "and there is your son."
 
Leo rose slowly, as pale as a . He had expected this, yet when it came the thing was too much for him. He could only look at his newly-found father in silence. Lord Kilspindie and he too turned pale. Then he made one stride forward, and grasping Leo's hands stared into his face. "Yes," he muttered, "I believe. You have her—her—" He turned on Mrs Jeal. "Woman, is this true?" he demanded. But Mrs Jeal, with a cruel smile on her fat, puffy face, still sat silent. "I could strangle you," muttered Lord Kilspindie, by her .
 
"I can make her speak," said Raston, taking an envelope out of his pocket, "and here is the means of doing so."
 
Still holding Leo's hand, Lord Kilspindie looked at the curate. Mrs Jeal remained quiet, a contemptuous smile on her lips and her eyes on the floor. Tempest, much interested in this strange scene, sat waiting for the end. It would seem that the result was in Raston's hands.
 
"After I had received the cup and had heard its story," the curate continued, "I began to question Pratt about Leo. At Portfront Leo had already told me of the claim Pratt had made to being his father. I did not believe it, for I know Haverleigh's upright nature and could not think that he was the child of such a bad man. At first Pratt insisted that he was the father. I then appealed to his better instincts and told him how Leo had made up his mind to give up Miss Tempest rather than make her the wife of a man with such antecedents as his. I think Pratt really loves you, Leo, for after a time he yielded to my and told the truth."
 
"I am sure he likes me," said Haverleigh, quietly; "he was always very kind to me. Bad as he is, I at least have no reason to complain of his treatment."
 
"But what did he say?" asked Lord Kilspindie, anxiously.
 
"I shall leave Mrs Jeal to tell. She can repeat to you the story Pratt told me."
 
"I'll not say a word," muttered the woman, .
 
"I can compel you!" replied Raston, sternly.
 
"Try!" was Mrs Jeal's disdainful retort.
 
The curate turned towards K............