"Yes, I sent for him to clear up things. Why did you not come in?"
"I don't wish to see Sir Daniel," said Clarke, nervously; "he has behaved very badly to me. He threatened to tell about something connected with a--a--a--a relative," ended Clarke, evasively.
Clarice knew as well as if he had spoken openly that the vicar referred to his scapegoat son. However, it was not her aim to frighten Clarke away by pretending to know too much, so she merely picked up some newly arrived letters from the hall table, as she replied, "You must come in and face Sir Daniel Jerce," she said quietly; "We are bringing him to book."
"Bringing him to book. What do you mean?"
"Go in and you'll hear," said Clarice, and was about to usher the vicar into the room, when she caught sight of the writing on one of the letters. "Go in--go in," she said, hurriedly. "I'll follow shortly."
Rather perplexed, and not at all anxious to face Jerce, the vicar approached the drawing-room door with hesitating steps. There he glanced back, and saw Clarice hurriedly reading a letter, with a white face and an agitated manner. For the moment, he was inclined to return, but gathering his courage together, he boldly opened the door, and saw Sir Daniel Jerce, facing Ferdy, defiantly.
"You can say what you like," were the words which struck the parson's ear, "but you know that I am as innocent of Horran's death as you are guilty. You stabbed him, you----"
"No!" cried Clarke, coming forward rapidly. "What do you mean, Sir Daniel, by accusing this young man of such a crime?"
Jerce wheeled, and his eyes flashed when he beheld Clarke. The vicar had quite thrown aside his nervous, hesitating manner, and with an unflinching face he looked at the great doctor. Anthony, anticipating some fresh revelation, rose from his seat, while Ferdy stared open-mouthed at Prudence's father. He had never seen the vicar look so bold.
"I accuse him," said Jerce, with a snarl, and keeping his hard eyes firmly on the weak face of the parson, "because he is guilty."