"What is it, Sybil?" he asked. "I am busy."
"Please forgive me for interrupting you, father," she replied, coming to the desk and putting her arm round his neck, "but I have something to tell you, something to confess."
"You have been doing nothing wrong, I hope," said Tempest, suspiciously.
"I don't think it is wrong, save in one particular. That advertisement! It was I who put it into the papers."
"Sybil! And you never told me!" The vicar was annoyed. At the same time he felt relieved that it was nothing worse. He fancied that she might be about to confess that she had married Leo.
"It was no use telling you until something came of it, father," replied Sybil, calmly, "so do not be angry. Now that the whole mystery has been cleared up, the advertisement is useless. But I received one answer to it. A gentleman called Lord Kilspindie wrote to me at the post-office as 'S. T.,' asking to see me about the cup. He had something serious to say about it. I was curious—I think you would have been curious yourself, father—so I wrote, and, giving my real name and address, asked him to come down here. He is now in the drawing-room."
Tempest rose to his feet, looking vexed. "Lord Kilspindie in the drawing-room, and I only know of the matter now. Really, Sybil, you have behaved very badly. What does he want?"
"To tell us something about the cup, I suppose," said Sybil. "Do you know Lord Kilspindie, father?"
"No more than that he is a border lord and a wealthy man. I believe he has a splendid and famous castle near the Tweed. Sybil, you should have told me."
"I am sorry, but I didn't think it was worth while until he came. You are not angry, father. I have done nothing so very bad, and it was my eagerness about Leo that made me take up the matter."