"How should I know? The same question applies to Maurice."
"Not at all. There the case is absolutely clear. Maurice got his information from you."
"A gratuitous statement, sir!—which you cannot prove."
"From you"—repeated Meynell. "And from certain spying operations that he and East undertook together. Do you deny that you told Maurice all that Judith Sabin told you—together with her identification of myself?"
The room seemed to wait for Barron's reply. He made none. He burst out instead—
"What possible motive could Maurice have had for such an action? The thing isn't even plausible!"
"Oh, Maurice had various old scores to settle with me," said Meynell, quietly. "I have come across him more than once in this parish—no need to say how. I tried to prevent him from publicly disgracing himself and you; and I did prevent him. He saw in this business an easy revenge on a sanctimonious parson who had interfered with his pleasures."
Barron had risen and was pacing the room with unsteady steps. Meynell still watched him, with the same glitter in the eye. Meynell's whole nature indeed, at the moment, had gathered itself into one avenging force; he was at once sword and smiter. The man before him seemed to him embodied cruelty and hypocrisy; he felt neither pity nor compunction. And presently he said abruptly—
"But I am afraid I have much more serious matter to lay before you than this business of the letters."
"What do you mean?"