"I trust that you have, my child," he said. "Don't cry any more. Tears cost so much; and I am convinced that you need not weep for fear of your lover's safety. He has been wrongfully accused; I do not doubt that for a moment."
"You don't; I know you don't! But why?" said Celia. "The jewel-case—I know it was the jewel-case, because the bank has telegraphed to say that poor Lord Sutcombe took it from the bank, and he must have brought it here—it was in the safe, was stolen from it. And the Inspector said that he had found it in Sydney's possession. That looks so black against him. And yet—you are as convinced of his innocence as I am!"
"Yes," said Mr. Clendon, quietly, "I am convinced. I could not tell you why; let us say that it is because your lover's face is not that of a guilty man. Besides," he added, with the ghost of a smile, "a man does not walk about a wood with a stolen jewel-case under his arm—if he himself is the thief."
"Of course!" cried Celia, stopping short, her face lighting up. "No one would be such a fool—least of all Sydney," she added, more to herself than to him, "who is so clever."
"Exactly," said Mr. Clendon. "So you see, my child, you have nothing to be alarmed about. Here is the Hall!" He looked up at the noble façade with a curious expression in his face. "It is years since I have been here," he added, musingly.
"You have been here before, you know the Marquess?" said Celia. "Yes, you said so. How strange! Why, Mr. Clendon," she broke off, turning upon him, with a flush of gratitude, "I see now, I see now! It was you who got me the place here. And I never guessed it! Oh, how good you have been to me! And you hid it." Her hand pressed his.
The old man frowned slightly. "You have caught me, my dear," he said. "It was a great pleasure to me to be of assistance to you. But we have other things to think of," he added, as they passed up the steps into the hall.
The butler met them, suppressing the astonishment he felt at sight of the poorly-dressed old man in Miss Grant's company, suppressing it not only from the instincts of a well-trained servant, but because he knew, at a glance, that shabby as the bent figure was, the stranger was a gentleman.
"My name is Clendon," said Mr. Clendon. "I am an old friend of Lord Sutcombe's; and I have come down to inquire after him, to see him if it is possible."
"Certainly, sir," said the butler; and he led the way to the drawing-room. But Celia drew Mr. Clendon into the library.