The girl seemed astounded. “I? No, of course not,” she answered, emphatically. “I have never possessed such a thing.”
“Miss Franks is not a Roman Catholic. She does not wear baubles of that sort,” put in the vicar, who was extremely Low Church.
“I thought so,” said Karne, with satisfaction. “So you see you were mistaken, Mr. Blatz.”
The foreman was disconcerted. “The child wore one when she returned from the Towers, sir,” he said but half convinced. “Perhaps Miss Celia’s friend——?”
Enid Wilton shook her head. “No, I had nothing to do with it either,” she said. “It is a strange occurrence.”
It was indeed strange. Blatz did not know what to make of it. He could not possibly doubt the statement of the two young ladies; and yet, if neither of them had put the crucifix on the child, how had it got there?
He puzzled over the question, but could find no solution; and when, after finding that his warning was futile so far as Herbert Karne was concerned, he left the Towers, the incident of the crucifix still occupied his mind.
As the foreman shut the gate which led into the private road, a man sprang suddenly out of the darkness, and laid a detaining grip on his shoulder. It was Jacob Strelitzki, somewhat the worse for drink.
“I thought that was what you were going to do, so I followed you up to here,” he said, with a vicious shake. “Been blabbing, I suppose, you mean sneak?”
“Let me go!” cried the foreman, angrily. “I’ve been finding out the truth. You and Horwitz are on the wrong track. Mr. Karne is no more a m’shumad than you are; and his sister did not put the crucifix on the child. There’s been some trickery somewhere. I should not be surprised if you had something to do with it, either, Jacob Strelitzki. I know you have a grudge against Mr. Karne.”