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r him. He could only look at his newly-found father in silence. Lord Kilspindie gasped and he too turned pale. Then he made one stride forward, and grasping Leo's hands stared into his face. "Yes," he muttered, "I believe. You have her--her--" He turned on Mrs Jeal. "Woman, is this true?" he demanded. But Mrs Jeal, with a cruel smile on her fat, puffy face, still sat silent. "I could strangle you," muttered Lord Kilspindie, exasperated by her obstinacy.
"I can make her speak," said Raston, taking an envelope out of his pocket, "and here is the means of doing so."
Still holding Leo's hand, Lord Kilspindie looked at the curate. Mrs Jeal remained quiet, a contemptuous smile on her lips and her eyes on the floor. Tempest, much interested in this strange scene, sat waiting for the end. It would seem that the result was in Raston's hands.
"After I had received the cup and had heard its story," the curate continued, "I began to question Pratt about Leo. At Portfront Leo had already told me of the claim Pratt had made to being his father. I did not believe it, for I know Haverleigh's upright nature and could not think that he was the child of such a bad man. At first Pratt insisted that he was the father. I then appealed to his better instincts and told him how Leo had made up his mind to give up Miss Tempest rather than make her the wife of a man with such antecedents as his. I think Pratt really loves you, Leo, for after a time he yielded to my entreaties and told the truth."
"I am sure he likes me," said Haverleigh, quietly; "he was always very kind to me. Bad as he is, I at least have no reason to complain of his treatment."
"But what did he say?" asked Lord Kilspindie, anxiously.
"I shall leave Mrs Jeal to tell. She can repeat to you the story Pratt told me."
"I'll not say a word," muttered the woman, resolutely.
"I can compel you!" replied Raston, sternly.
"Try!" was Mrs Jeal's disdainful retort.
The curate turned towards Kilspindie. "Pratt's story had a great deal to do with his wife, my lord, and on several points he referred me to her. I told him that she would never speak, for I well know how obstinate she is. Pratt then agreed to help me, 'for Leo's sake,' he said. He wrote out something and placed what he had written in this envelope. I did not see what it was and I do not know now. The envelope is sealed as you see. Now," added the curate, looking at Mrs Jeal, who was beginning to show signs of uneasiness, "if you tell the story of how you stole the child and prove that Mr Haverleigh is really Lord Morven, I will hand this letter to you with the seal unbroken. If you refuse, I will open the envelope now and act on the contents. Pratt assured me that what is contained herein would cost you much more than your liberty!"
The three men looked at the woman. Her face was livid, and the perspiration beaded her forehead. Twice she tried to speak, but her mouth opened and shut without a sound.
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