Kilspindie remained seated in his chair and holding the hand of his newly-recovered son. Both men fixed their eyes on Mrs Jeal, who in a cold and unemotional way continued her confession.
"I was brought up on your estate, my lord," she said, "and there I met with Pratt—or, rather, with Tony Angel. He came on a visit to the village to get away from the police. He was a handsome and fascinating man and I fell in love with him. Whether he loved me or not I cannot say. At all events, he pretended to. I left your service and married him. We went to London, and then I discovered that my husband was a thief. At first I was horrified. In those days, my lord, I was not the hardened sinner you see me now. But after a time Pratt—as I may call him—made me as bad as himself. He taught me to love fine things and comfort, and as he always made plenty of money by stealing I had a gay life. Oh! we had fine times I can tell you! He—"
"Go on with your story, Mrs Jeal," said the vicar, sternly.
She tossed her head, but obeyed. "After a time things got bad. Pratt was so well known to the police that he was not so successful as he had been. I used to tell him about Kilspindie Castle and the cup. Pratt, who loved beautiful things, wanted to get the cup. He proposed that I should go back and steal it. I was already known in the castle, so there would be a better opportunity for me to get it than himself. As I wanted money I agreed, and I came back to the castle."
"Did you re-enter my service in order to steal the cup?" asked Lord Kilspindie.
"Yes," replied Mrs Jeal, defiantly, "you had plenty without it. I entered as an under-nursemaid, and as I was comfortable I thought I would stay for a while. Pratt came up and urged me to steal the cup at once. I refused, as I did not wish to leave my good situation. Then an idea came into his head that if I could obtain the child of a nobleman he could hold it as a hostage."
"What do you mean?" asked Raston.
"The meaning is not difficult," said Mrs Jeal, coolly. "Pratt was always in danger of being taken by the police, and his record was so bad that he would have been shown no mercy. He thought if he had Lord Kilspindie's son, that when he got into trouble he could promise to restore the child on condition that he was set free."
"A clever idea," muttered the vicar.
"And a very wild one," said his lordship. "What influence could I bring to bear towards helping a criminal?"