"Wait a bit, Mr Haverleigh," interrupted Marton, motioning the curate to hold his tongue, "all in good time. I am Horace Marton, a detective. I was asked by Mr Raston to investigate this robbery, and he was telling me about it at his lodgings. Your friend Mr Pratt arrived, and when he saw me he bolted out into the fog. I followed and lost him. Then I got back to Raston here, and we have been over two hours looking for this confounded place. During that time Pratt and Adam have made themselves scarce." "But why should they do that?" asked Leo, still puzzled. "Because this man who calls himself Pratt, and poses as a giver of gifts to the Church, is a well-known London thief, and his man Adam is what he would call a pal. 'Tony Angel,' that is the real name of Mr Pratt, but he had half-a-dozen others beside. I congratulate you on your friend, Mr Haverleigh!" "I never knew anything of this," cried Leo, utterly taken aback. "I am quite sure of that, Haverleigh," said the curate, heartily. Marton chuckled. "Wait a bit, Harold," he said; "do not be in such a hurry. How do we know that Mr Haverleigh has not been working together with Tony Angel? He may know all about him and may have been employed by him to steal the very cup which was given by Pratt as an evidence of his respectability." Leo jumped up and would have flung himself on Marton; but Raston held him back. "How dare you make such an accusation against me?" cried the young man, furiously. "Let me go, Raston; don't you hear what he says?" "Wait a bit, Haverleigh," urged the curate. "Marton does nothing without a motive. He can explain if you will remain quiet." Thus advised, Leo sat down again, but in rather a sulky humour. "I am a trifle tired of being called a blackguard," he said, frowning at Marton, who regarded him with a friendly smile. "I know absolutely nothing about Mr Pratt, save that he was a friend of Mrs Gabriel's, and that he has been very good to me. I always thought he was what he represented himself to be." "Small wonder you did," said Marton, coolly. "Angel would deceive a much cleverer man than you appear to be, Mr Haverleigh! And look here, I may as well tell you at once that I am certain you knew nothing about him. Also I am equally certain that you have had nothing to do with this robbery. I cannot say yet whether Pratt--as I may continue to call him for clearness' sake--stole the cup. But you are innocent, Mr Haverleigh; and I intend to do my best to get you out of your trouble. Shake hands." At first Leo hesitated, for he was still sore about the accusation. But the detective regarded him in a friendly manner, and his smile was so irresistible, that in the end he shook hands heartily. He felt that the man who spoke thus would be a good friend. "You know all about the case?" "All that Mr Raston could tell me," said the detective, "even to the fact that you borrowed the money for which you are accused of stealing the cup from Sir Frank Hale."