"And the second time?" asked Tempest, wondering how much of this wild tale the old lord believed.
"The second time was in the reign of Henry VIII. The castle was sacked and the cup taken. All the family were killed, but the nurse managed to save one child, with whom she fled. After a series of adventures the cup was restored and the child regained his inheritance."
"How strange!" said Sybil. "And now that the cup is lost again?"
Kilspindie smiled. "Well, you see, Miss Tempest, I have but one son and he is lost. If I do not find him the title and estates must go to a distant cousin, and the prophecy of the fairies will be fulfilled. That is why I am so anxious to get the cup. If I can find it and bring it back to Kilspindie Castle, I am certain that I shall find my boy."
"A wild story," said the vicar, after a pause. "There is oftentimes a grain of truth in these folktales. But tell me, how came it that the cup was stolen the third time?"
"I am about to tell you," replied the visitor. "There was a woman called Janet Grant, the daughter of one of my tenants. She was in service at my place, but after some years she became weary of the dull life. We are not very lively up in the north," said Kilspindie, with a laugh. "However, this woman got tired and went up to London. There, I believe, she obtained a situation, but what her life was while absent I do not know. She was always reticent on the point. After six years she returned. In the interval I had married, and at the time Janet returned, or a year before, my wife became a mother. I was the father of a splendid boy, my son and heir, Lord Morven. Janet was taken back into my service as an under nurse, for she was a very capable woman."
"Had she a good temper?" asked Sybil, guessing what was coming.
"One of the worst tempers in the world. Also she was evil in her disposition. Had I known then what was told to me afterwards by the other servants, she should never have re-entered my service. But they were all afraid of Janet and her wicked ways, and therefore remained silent when it was their duty to speak out. When the boy was two years of age, or it may be a trifle over, the head nurse died. Janet expected to succeed, but my wife appointed another woman."
"She did not trust Janet," hinted the vicar.
"No. By this time Janet was not so careful in her behaviour, and my wife began to suspect her true character. Janet was very angry at the slight—as she called it—and swore she would be revenged. Of course, she knew the legend of the cup, so it struck her, no doubt, that if she stole the cup the usual disaster would follow."