"She would not tell you the name of the man?"
"There is no man in the world to whom she would accord a clandestine meeting."
"Perhaps you forget that I was an eye-witness, Mr. Helston."
"Would you swear in a court of law that the girl whom you saw was Melicent?"
The vicar hesitated.
"Why," asked Helston, "did you not at once enter her room, and convince yourself?"
"I never act in haste; besides, there is no doubt. She wore Melicent's hat—a kind of broad, flat cap which she wears in the garden; and she entered her room! Mr. Helston, I fear I must ask you to be explicit. You have said too much, or not enough. What is it you suggest?"
"I suggest nothing, for I know nothing, except the fact, of which I am sure, that the girl you saw was not Melicent. Had you gone to her room, and confronted her then and there, you would have known more than I do at this moment."
"I think you are bound to tell me what my niece has told you," said the vicar; and a new uneasiness was in his voice.
"No; I am not bound to, and I have no wish to. But there is a further question, as to whether I ought to. I—I can't speak without inflicting great pain, which I am very loath to do. But I can't get away from the feeling that perhaps I ought not to allow you to go on in ignorance of the true state of affairs. Perhaps I have said enough to put you on your guard. Let us leave it so."