"I am certain of it. Everything belonging to that man was stolen. What a pity, Peggy, that such a clever fellow should use his talents for such a bad purpose."
"A great pity. I liked Mr Pratt, and even now, although he is such a wretch, I can't help feeling sorry for him."
"So do I, Peggy. There was good in Pratt. Let us hope he will repent. But now, darling, don't let us talk more of him. He has gone, and will never come back. What about the wedding-day?"
"Oh, Harold!" began Peggy, and blushed. After this the conversation became too personal to be reported. It is sufficient to say that the wedding-day was fixed for two months later.
While all these discoveries in connections with Pratt were being made in Colester, events which had to do with Sybil's advertisement had happened which prevented her keeping it any longer a secret from her father. She put off telling him till the very last moment, but when one day a London visitor arrived she was forced to speak out. A card inscribed with the name "Lord Kilspindie" was brought to her, and on the back of it was a pencilled note hinting that the gentleman had called about the advertisement. Sybil ordered that he should be shown into the drawing-room, and went to her father's study. The vicar was preparing his sermon, and looked up ill-pleased at the interruption.
"What is it, Sybil?" he asked. "I am busy."
"Please forgive me for interrupting you, father," she replied, coming to the desk and putting her arm round his neck, "but I have something to tell you, something to confess."
"You have been doing nothing wrong, I hope," said Tempest, suspiciously.
"I don't think it is wrong, save in one particular. That advertisement! It was I who put it into the papers."
"Sybil! And you never told me!" The vicar was annoyed. At the same time he felt relieved that it was nothing worse. He fancied that she might be about to confess that she had married Leo.
"It was no use telling you until something came of it, father," replied Sybil, calmly, "so do not be angry. Now that the whole mystery has been cleared up, the advertisement is useless. But I received one answer to it. A gentleman called Lord Kilspindie wrote to me at the post-office as 'S. T.,' asking to see me about the cup. He had something serious to say about it. I was curious--I think you would have been curious yourself, father--so I wrote, and, giving my real name and address, asked him to come down here. He is now in the drawing-room."