Leo jumped up and would have flung himself on Marton; but Raston held him back. "How dare you make such an accusation against me?" cried the young man, furiously. "Let me go, Raston; don't you hear what he says?"
"Wait a bit, Haverleigh," urged the curate. "Marton does nothing without a motive. He can explain if you will remain quiet."
Thus advised, Leo sat down again, but in rather a sulky humour. "I am a trifle tired of being called a blackguard," he said, frowning at Marton, who regarded him with a friendly smile. "I know absolutely nothing about Mr Pratt, save that he was a friend of Mrs Gabriel's, and that he has been very good to me. I always thought he was what he represented himself to be."
"Small wonder you did," said Marton, coolly. "Angel would deceive a much cleverer man than you appear to be, Mr Haverleigh! And look here, I may as well tell you at once that I am certain you knew nothing about him. Also I am equally certain that you have had nothing to do with this robbery. I cannot say yet whether Pratt—as I may continue to call him for clearness' sake—stole the cup. But you are innocent, Mr Haverleigh; and I intend to do my best to get you out of your trouble. Shake hands."
At first Leo hesitated, for he was still sore about the accusation. But the detective regarded him in a friendly manner, and his smile was so irresistible, that in the end he shook hands heartily. He felt that the man who spoke thus would be a good friend. "You know all about the case?"
"All that Mr Raston could tell me," said the detective, "even to the fact that you borrowed the money for which you are accused of stealing the cup from Sir Frank Hale."
"Then I wish you would make him acknowledge the loan," said Leo, petulantly.
Marton started and looked at the young man. "Does he not do so?"
"No. He is in love with Miss Tempest, who is engaged to me, and he says he will deny the loan if I do not give her up."
"And marry his sister, I suppose!" interposed the curate, whereat Leo nodded.