Both the old men looked at Leo, who winced.
"Are you sure of that?" asked the vicar. "Pratt wrote to Marton, remember."
"To take the blame upon himself. Quite so. But he was not guilty for all that. His record was so black when Marton unmasked him that he thought a crime more or less would not matter."
"But why should he shield Haverleigh?" asked Mr Tempest.
Leo started forward. He saw that the time had come for him to speak out. "I can answer that," he said. "Pratt told me that I was his son."
Tempest uttered an exclamation. "You must be mistaken," he said; "Mrs Gabriel informed me that you were illegitimate."
"That would not have made any difference," said Leo, bitterly. "I might as well be the illegitimate son of Pratt as of anyone else. As a matter of fact, however, he told me that I was born in wedlock. His wife—my mother—died, and he placed me with Mrs Gabriel to bring up. She believed that I was a nameless orphan, and what she told you, Mr Tempest, was true so far as she knew. Her telling was none the less spiteful, however. It was that which made you unwilling that I should marry Sybil."
"Yes," said the vicar, with a flush. "I did not like to think that a daughter of mine should marry a nameless man."
"And you visit the sins of the parents on the head of their innocent offspring," said Leo. "You have not treated me well, Mr Tempest. You thought me guilty of theft; scorned me because I was nameless! Is this the conduct of a minister of the Gospel?"
The grey head of the vicar drooped. "I admit that I have been wrong, Leo," he said in a faltering tone. "You have vindicated your character. I ask your pardon. And more," said he, when Leo grasped his hand, "even although there is a stain on your birth—"