"Something is gained," said Kilspindie. "You have revealed that my son is alive and well. I'll get the rest out of you."
"Never!" Mrs Jeal shut her mouth with a snap and shook herself. "I'll not speak another word!"
"What a wicked woman you are," said the vicar, sadly. Mrs Jeal's eyes flashed a wicked glance at him, but, true to her determination, she held her peace. It seemed impossible to do anything with so pronounced a vixen.
Hitherto Raston had been silent. Now he came forward. "I am able to deal with this matter," he said quietly, "and I have a way of making the woman speak."
Mrs Jeal shook her head and glared. The vicar and Kilspindie both looked at the curate. So did Leo. He was beginning to have a faint hope that the scene would end in the discovery that he was the rightful son of Lord Kilspindie. With an anxious face he sat in the corner and drank in eagerly every word which fell from Raston's lips. Mrs Jeal maintained her self-imposed silence.
"Mr Tempest," said Raston, "when I asked you if I might go to London, I did not tell you my errand. I tell it to you now. It was to see the man known as Pratt."
"What!" exclaimed the vicar. "You saw that man!"
"Two days ago. He wrote asking me to see him, hinting that he had something to tell about the cup."
"Which he stole," said Kilspindie.
"No, my lord. Pratt did not steal the cup. He took the blame upon himself, so as to clear the name of my friend Haverleigh."