"My friend," said Chaskin coldly, "I do not intend to deny it; but I question your right to make such a statement. It is true that I loved Miss Lester; but she never knew of my passion. She was the promised wife of my friend, and as such I did not think myself justified in revealing my feelings. You, Mr. Lovel, were less scrupulous." "I admit it," replied Lovel, attempting a weak defence; "but I loved her." "All the village knew as much; but I do not call that love which debases its object. If you had said nothing to Miss Lester, she might have refused to meet you. And had she not met you," added Chaskin emphatically, "this tragedy would not have taken place." "As to that, you know best!" sneered the younger man. "As you please, sir," rejoined the Vicar. "I refuse to defend myself to you." "Can you defend yourself at all?" questioned Mexton suddenly. "I shall answer that question when I am asked it by the duly constituted authorities." "At least tell us how you lost that pistol." The Vicar rose from his chair, and walking across to a side table, lifted therefrom an oblong box of mahogany. This he opened and placed before his visitors. "This is a remnant of my soldiering days," he said. "Once it contained two pistols; now, as you see, there is only one. The other, I admit freely, is the weapon which you showed to me, Mr. Mexton." "The weapon with which Milly was murdered," said Lovel viciously. "No doubt; but, as I told you, I lost it some four weeks ago," "How did you lose it?" asked Paul; for it seemed to him that Chaskin was evading the point. "I cannot tell you," replied the Vicar; "the box stood always on that table. I see many people in this room; any one of them might have taken it." "Mother Jimboy, for instance?" "No; for the simple reason that Mother Jimboy never came to the Vicarage." "Herne says she did," cried Lovel; "and that you saw her in this room before the murder." Chaskin drew a long breath, and seemed to consider his reply: "Mr. Herne is mistaken," he said at length; "the gipsy was never in this room." "Then somebody is telling a lie!" said Lovel, looking sharply at Chaskin. "No doubt," he answered coolly; "but I am not bound to find the liar for you." "Perhaps I know where he is to be found without your aid!" The Vicar shut down the lid of the box with a snap, and once more rose to his feet. "This conversation has lasted long enough," he said with dignity, "and I have replied to your questions very patiently. I refuse to answer any more." "You say you are innocent?" asked Paul. "I say nothing." "You know who is guilty?" insisted Lovel. "I know nothing."