"That is extremely probable. Well, let us hope the remaining servants will sleep well. To-morrow they must leave this house!"
"Why, in Heaven's name?" asked Leo, starting up.
"For the very simple reason that the police will be put into possession here by me to-morrow."
"What? Did Pratt steal the—I don't understand. Raston, what does this man mean? Who is he? What are—"
"Wait a bit, Mr Haverleigh," interrupted Marton, motioning the curate to hold his tongue, "all in good time. I am Horace Marton, a detective. I was asked by Mr Raston to investigate this robbery, and he was telling me about it at his lodgings. Your friend Mr Pratt arrived, and when he saw me he bolted out into the fog. I followed and lost him. Then I got back to Raston here, and we have been over two hours looking for this confounded place. During that time Pratt and Adam have made themselves scarce."
"But why should they do that?" asked Leo, still puzzled.
"Because this man who calls himself Pratt, and poses as a giver of gifts to the Church, is a well-known London thief, and his man Adam is what he would call a pal. 'Tony Angel,' that is the real name of Mr Pratt, but he had half-a-dozen others beside. I congratulate you on your friend, Mr Haverleigh!"
"I never knew anything of this," cried Leo, utterly taken aback.
"I am quite sure of that, Haverleigh," said the curate, heartily.
Marton chuckled. "Wait a bit, Harold," he said; "do not be in such a hurry. How do we know that Mr Haverleigh has not been working together with Tony Angel? He may know all about him and may have been employed by him to steal the very cup which was given by Pratt as an evidence of his respectability."