"He insulted Miss Enistor the other day in your presence and you threatened to kill him, I understand. Of course I am not a believer in your guilt," added the parson quickly, "as from what I have seen of you I do not think for a moment that you would shed the blood of a human being."

"Thank you," said Montrose simply, and extended his hand.

Sparrow took it with a flush on his parchment face. "It's all rubbish as I have said," he burst out with very human wrath. "And as you are staying at Tremore, undoubtedly you will be able to show that you did not see Senor Narvaez last night."

It was on the tip of Montrose's tongue to confess his visit, but something--perhaps common sense--prevented him from incriminating himself. Instead, a question sprang to his lips to which he was extremely anxious to get an answer. "What about Job Trevel?"

"There you are," said the vicar quickly. "A rough hot-tempered man like Job is much more likely to have done the deed, though G.o.d forbid I should accuse him or any one unjustly. Yet Job certainly hated Senor Narvaez on account of Rose Penwin, and uttered many threats against him.

But when the news came of this murder, Mr. Montrose, I at once went to see Dame Trevel, remembering Job's enmity. She tells me that Job went out fishing last night early and has not returned. Therefore he cannot be guilty."

"Then who can have murdered Narvaez?"

"It is hard to say. Of course he lived in a lonely situation and had much wealth, if rumour is to be believed. We shall see when the police come from Perchton. They should be here soon. I believe that Mr. Enistor and our village constable have gone to the cottage to see the body.

Meanwhile, Mr. Montrose, I advise you to return to Tremore and wait until we learn more. Senor Narvaez was no favourite, yet it is dangerous for you to walk about amongst my rough parishioners, as they seem to think that you are guilty."

Montrose was no coward, yet he did not see the necessity of courting danger when no benefit could be derived from such foolhardiness. He bowed his head and accepted the warning, thankful to think that Mr.

Sparrow did not believe him to have committed the crime. "And Hardwick is dead," he said sadly.

"Yes! Yes! Yes! It is a world of trouble, Mr. Montrose. I have just seen the body, and the poor fellow looks asleep rather than dead. Strange that he should die on the very morning when this tragic event takes place. Polwellin is such a quiet place: nothing of moment ever happens here. Yet now we have two deaths: one from natural causes and one by violence. It never rains but it pours. I have much to do: much to do.

Now go back to Tremore, my dear young friend, and rest a.s.sured that G.o.d will prove your innocence in His own good time. You have my sympathy and my wife's sympathy."

"You are a good man and she is a good woman, Mr. Sparrow," said Montrose, deeply moved. "I a.s.sure you I shall not forget how you are standing by me."

"Pooh! Pooh! Of course I stand by you, and so will Mr. Enistor. There is absolutely no ground for these rumours against you, save your unhappy threat. You should keep your temper, Mr. Montrose: you should keep your temper."

"Rather hard to do when a lady is insulted," said Douglas dryly.

"Of course: quite so. If it had been Mrs. Sparrow now, I should have forgotten my calling. Still we must fight the enemy of evil feelings even against those who strive to harm us. Good-day: good-day and hope for the best."

Montrose, climbing the hill to Tremore, would have smiled on any other occasion at Mr. Sparrow's fight between human failings and the divine command to turn the other cheek to the smiter. But he did not smile, as he was very grateful to the man for his advocacy, and thought highly of him for standing up so boldly against public opinion. Sparrow was limited in many ways, but he had a considerable fund of common sense, which he used to the best advantage. He followed his Master as best he knew how and was very close to Him in his present att.i.tude, which was one few men would have a.s.sumed in the face of such hostility. Montrose determined that when his innocence was a.s.sured he would repay the vicar in one way or another. Meanwhile he had to deal strenuously with his very disagreeable situation.

After midday Enistor returned and requested an interview with his guest in the library. The young man appeared, looking haggard and anxious, which was very natural considering the dangerous position in which he stood. Also he was angry at not seeing Alice, for by Enistor's orders she was not allowed out of her bedroom, the housekeeper being on guard.

Douglas insisted that he should be permitted to have a conversation with the girl.

"You have no right to keep us apart," said Montrose indignantly.

"Until you clear your character I have," said Enistor coldly.

"But you don't think that I am guilty: you can't think so. Why, even Mr.

Sparrow, whom you say is narrow-minded, does not believe that I killed Narvaez."

"Mr. Sparrow does not know of your visit to the cottage last night. Nor does any one but myself and my daughter. The Perchton Inspector came with several policemen and has examined the cottage and the body, and Mrs. Boyce, who looked after things for Narvaez. She declares that someone called last night, but could not say who it was."

"Perhaps Job Trevel?"

"Job went out fishing last night early and has not returned. Rose was with her mother all day and all night. Neither of these two can be guilty. And from your open threats it is said that you struck the blow, or rather broke the man's neck."

"I am not strong enough to do that," said Montrose, looking at his hands.

"Rage can make any one strong," said Enistor coolly. "And as you had every reason to be in a rage, seeing that Narvaez told what I believe was a wicked lie, you may have handled him too roughly."

"I did not handle him at all. How dare you say so!"

"Don't dare me too far, Montrose, or you may suffer. As it is I have a proposition to make to you. Only Alice and I and you know of your visit to the cottage last night. Alice because she loves you will hold her tongue. I am willing to do so also, if you will make over the fortune by deed of gift to me straightaway. Narvaez' lawyer from Perchton came with the police, as it seems my dead friend has left his money to Hardwick for some reason. It is a vain gift, as Hardwick is also dead. However, that is not the point. What I mean is that this lawyer can make out the deed of gift to-day and you can sign it. Then I shall hold my tongue."

"And if I refuse?" asked Montrose, seeing himself placed perilously between the devil and the deep sea.

"I shall then tell how you visited Narvaez last night, and I need hardly inform you that such an action coupled with your previous threats will bring you within reasonable distance of the hangman's noose."

Montrose nodded and swallowed, as his mouth and throat were very dry.

"I see my danger. All the same I decline to give you the money."

"Then you must take the consequence."

"I am ready to do so. And I give you the credit of not believing in my guilt or you would scarcely compound a felony."

"You don't know what I would do or what I would not do," said Enistor coolly, "as you know little of my character. But you are in my power to hang, and hanged you shall be unless you surrender the money. I don't think," ended the man with a sneer, "that your dear friend Eberstein can aid you in this dilemma. What do you think yourself?"

"I think nothing about it," rejoined Montrose decisively. "I have wired to Dr. Eberstein to come over, but----"

"But he has not yet put in an appearance," interrupted the Squire, with a harsh laugh. "And he never will."

"I disagree. When he knows of my peril he will come."

"He knows of your peril without your telling him, if he is the wonderful man you have made him out to be. However, this is an unprofitable discussion. The question is, will you give me the money to save your neck?"

"No!" said Montrose obstinately.

"I shall give you until six o'clock to decide," replied the Squire calmly. "And then, if you still refuse, I shall inform the Inspector about your visit to Narvaez last night. That will mean your immediate arrest and subsequent punishment."

"It will mean the first undoubtedly, but I may escape the second. I trust in G.o.d to prove my innocence."

"The age of miracles is past," said Enistor with a shrug, and left the library to again interview the Inspector.

Montrose remained where he was wondering why Eberstein did not either come over to help him, or at least reply to his wire. Enistor's taunt was surely true, for the young man had sufficient knowledge of Eberstein's wonderful powers to be certain he was aware of all that had taken place. With his ability to procure super-physical knowledge, he probably knew who had murdered Narvaez, so he would surely come to the rescue. But an hour pa.s.sed and the shadows began to deepen without any information. Montrose began to feel his spirits sink, and again tried to invoke the helpful power which had aided him before, but without success. He felt desperately angry against the Squire for behaving so wickedly, and resented the hate directed against him. "Hate only ceases by love," as Eberstein had said, but how could he love, or even tolerate, a man who was bent upon encompa.s.sing his destruction. Montrose asked himself this question several times without getting any reply, and was well nigh in despair, when an interruption came. This was none other than the unexpected appearance of Alice.

"Oh, my dear, my dear," she cried, hastening across the shadowy room to throw herself into his longing arms. "I have been broken-hearted over you, but I could not get out to see you. Father came some time ago and said that I could try to persuade you to give up the money."

"And what do you say?" Montrose asked her softly.

"Give it up: give it up. What does this miserable money matter?"

"I care nothing for the money as you well know. But Eberstein told me to keep it, and I obey him in this as I obey him in all things."

"But why hasn't he come to help you?" sobbed the girl, trembling.

"He will come: he will do something. I have every confidence in him.

Remember how he prophesied this woe, and said that we had to learn to walk alone. I can't believe that one who has helped me so much will desert me in my hour of need. Depend upon it, Alice, all will be well.

What have you got here?"