As Pratt still refused to come and Tempest was unwilling to call at the cottage of Mrs Jeal on such an errand, the inspector went himself. He found no difficulty in entering, as Raston was at the door. All the same the curate was indignant on hearing the accusation. He took German into the sitting-room, but refused--and in this he was backed up by the doctor--to let the inspector enter the bedroom of the sick girl. Not that German desired to do so after an interview with Mrs Jeal. She was most indignant at the slur cast upon the character of the girl she called her adopted daughter. There was a scene, and Mrs Jeal proved herself to be more than equal to the official from Portfront. "I never heard anything so wicked in my life," cried Mrs Jeal. "The poor child may be mad, but not mad enough to take what is not her own. I wonder at you, sir, that you should come here on such an errand." "My duty is clearly before me," replied the inspector, stiffly. "Is the girl really and truly ill?" "You can take my word for that, Mr German," said Raston. "Or, if you do not believe me, here is Dr James!" "Ill!" repeated the doctor, when the question was put to him. "She had a bad attack of inflammation of the lungs, and she is worse this morning than I have ever seen her. I do not wish her disturbed, Mr Inspector." "She could not have gone out last night to the chapel, doctor?" "Not without the risk of being dead this morning," replied James, dryly. "Besides, Pearl Darry is not a thief. No, sir. Whosoever stole that cup, it was _not_ my patient." "And I would have you know," cried Mrs Jeal, with her arms akimbo, "that I sat beside her the most of last night, and not one step did she stir off the bed." "Ah, well," said German, who could not go against this evidence, "it is very plain that I am in the wrong. Unless--" "There's no _unless_ about it, sir," cried Mrs Jeal. "Pearl wasna oot o' this hoose;" in her excitement she was falling into the Scotch speech of her childhood. "I wonder at ye, I do that! Hoots, awa' wi' ye!" Baffled in this quarter, the inspector took his way into the village. First he examined the chapel. Then he started out to make inquiries. For quite three days he exasperated everyone in the village with his questions and suspicions. But for all his worry he was unable to get at the truth. No tramps had been to the village. Old Barker proved his innocence with the assistance of a wrathful wife, and there was not a single person to whom the well-meaning but blundering inspector could point as likely to have stolen the cup. Finally, he was obliged to state that he could do nothing, and withdrew himself and his underlings from Colester, much to the relief of the villagers, whom he had grievously offended by his unjust suspicions. The cup had vanished as though it had been swallowed up by the earth, and no one was able to say who had taken it.