"What superstition!" murmured Mr Tempest.
"Well, I don't know, sir," said Kilspindie, quietly. "You see, Mr Tempest, we had chapter and verse for what might happen. However, Janet, out of revenge, took away the child and stole the cup. She had no difficulty in doing either. The cup was placed in the picture gallery under a glass shade, for no one ever expected that it would be stolen. It was not guarded so carefully as it should have been. But who would have thought that any one of my faithful servants would steal? As to the child, Janet was one day sent out with him. The head nurse remained at home. I believe she then took the cup with her. At all events she never returned, and when a search was made both the child and the cup were missing." Here Lord Kilspindie stopped and shook his head.
"What happened after that?" asked Sybil, curiously.
"There is no more to tell, Miss Tempest. The woman vanished utterly with the child and the cup. My wife, poor soul, died of grief. I employed all manner of means to find the woman, but without result. I even offered a reward and a pardon if she would bring back what she had taken. But she gave no sign of her existence. Well"—Kilspindie sighed—"that is all. I have been a lonely man for over twenty years, and things have gone wrong with me in every way. I am certain that prosperity will not return to me and mine until the cup is brought back. Then I may hope to recover my son. You can understand now how anxious I am to find this man Pratt. I would willingly pardon him all if he would give back the cup."
"I wonder how he became possessed of it?" said Tempest.
"Ah!" said Kilspindie, "that is what we must find out. He seems to be an accomplished thief, so it may be that he stole the cup. On the other hand, Janet, finding herself hard up, may have pawned it, and Pratt may have got it into his possession in that way. You tell me that he has a love for beautiful things."
"Such a love," said the vicar, sadly, "that he is willing to be a thief to obtain them. Well, my lord, at present I do not see how we can help you."
"There is one way," said Kilspindie, after a pause. "Give me a letter to this Mr Marton, and with his aid I may succeed in tracing Pratt. In the meantime I intend to wait here for a few days. At my age I am not able to get about so rapidly as I once did."
The man did indeed look old and worn-out. But he was a fine, courtly gentleman of what is called the old school, and Sybil was quite fascinated with him. After some further conversation it was arranged that he should remain at the inn until the end of the week—it was now Wednesday—and that afterwards the vicar should accompany him to London to introduce him personally to Marton. Leaving her father and Kilspindie together, Sybil went to her room to think over the strange episode which was the outcome of her advertisement.
She was anxious to tell Leo all about it, but he was at Portfront, and she had received no letter from him. Sybil wondered at this, as it was not like Leo to neglect her. For the moment she was inclined to drive to Portfront and see him. He had given her no reason for his departure, and she was becoming anxious about him. Mrs Gabriel still remained in seclusion, and, so far as Sybil knew, Leo had never been to see her. It was therefore no use talking to Mrs Gabriel about the man she had so cruelly cast off. Her father she could not appeal to because, although he wished to make amends to Leo for his unjust suspicions, he did not wish him to marry her, and would therefore do nothing likely to bring them together. In this dilemma it struck Sybil that she might see Raston; he was a kindly creature, and all through the dark day had believed in Haverleigh's innocence. She thought that Raston might be induced to bring Leo back from Portfront, so Sybil put on her hat and sought out the curate. He was at home and delighted to see her.