"That is false. I knew him years ago in England. Years ago he loved me and I loved him, and we would have wedded but for—"
"But for what, Elinor?"
"For his faith."
"Ah, thou hast said the word. Now we have the thread to guide us through this dark maze. Neville loves thee still. He follows thee to this country, he begs me to intercede with thee to accept him as thy tenant, and all without a word of having known thee before; not a word, you see, Ingle, even to me, this woman's natural guardian. Doth it not smack of deceit and treachery?"
"I cannot deny it hath that appearance, yet beware how you do wholly commit yourself to appearances!"
"Ay, if appearances were all, but listen how the story all fits together. Faith, I can tell it as though I had seen all. This man comes to St. Gabriel's, and finding Mistress Calvert alone he tells her of his love. She, like the good Catholic she is, tells him in turn that his faith still stands between them. He swears at the fanatical priests who stand between her and him. Is not this all true so far, Cousin?"
No response; but the silence answers him.
"Next comes a quarrel 'twixt Neville and Father Mohl, how bred I cannot say, though doubtless this lady could tell us if she would; but, by my guess, at her behest her lover follows the priest to ask pardon; then—then—the rest is known to God only, but the result we see lying before us in mute and ghastly protest at the wrong done to humanity."
"Shame, Cousin Giles, that you are so ready to think evil of your friend! What is all this tale of thine when sifted? A tissue of what was, and what might have been. You have shown a possible motive, but 'tis a far cry from that to proving the deed."
And what say you, then, to this? As he spoke, Brent drew from his pocket a poniard, with a handle curiously inlaid with silver and ivory, and cut upon it the initial "N" sunk in a deep circle.