"Oh! that you've got some game on--so have I. Let us work together." "Pooh! pooh! You are talking nonsense." "Nonsense which may mean money. See here, I know that you were kicked out of the Moat House. Ah! the gossip of menials." "Pardon me, but I was not kicked out." "You were. Young Thorold did it. He wants all the money, and he'll get it by marrying that girl--if I let him." "If you let him? What do you mean?" "Mean? Why, that I hate young Thorold, and that I want a few thousands!" "Oh! and how do you intend to get them?" "Never you mind. If we work together--but, then, we don't. _Cedant arma togæ_--which means, you're a soldier, I'm a lawyer--so that's all right. Goo'night." And he staggered off, leaving Lestrange with much food for meditation. The outcome of this was that next morning the Captain met Cicero halfway, and later in the day Sophy received a note from Lestrange asking to see her. If she would not consent, he added, Mr. Thorold would be placed in a position of great danger. After some reflection Sophy sent for Mr. Phelps, and they decided to see the scamp. So on a Saturday morning Captain Lestrange was received in the library of the Rectory. "Well, sir," said Phelps, "and what have you to say about Mr. Thorold?" "Only this," was the reply: "that he is a scoundrel!" "Indeed!" the Rector stopped Sophy's exclamations. "On what grounds?" "On the grounds that it was he who stole the body of Richard Marlow!" CHAPTER XV. TROUBLE. The Rector and Sophy looked at one another, and then at Lestrange, smiling and confident. They knew Alan too well to credit so monstrous an accusation for one moment. Indeed, the idea appeared so ridiculous to Sophy that she laughed outright. Lestrange frowned. "You laugh now," he said. "You will weep later. What I say is true. Thorold stole the body of your father--your supposed father!" he sneered, "for, say what you like, you are my child." "I don't acknowledge the relationship," retorted the girl with spirit, "and I never will. Mr. Marlow was my father. I shall always think of him as such. As to your accusation of Mr. Thorold, it is merely another trick to cause me trouble. I suppose you will say next that he murdered Dr. Warrender?" "I say nothing of the sort," replied the Captain, nettled by her open contempt, "yet he may have done so, for all I know. But I state only what I can prove." "You cannot prove this ridiculous charge?" cried the Rector. "Mr. Thorold is incapable of such a crime." "Ah!" drawled the other coolly, "you see, Mr. Thorold is scientific, and does not look upon his deed as a crime." "What do you mean by that?" asked Mr. Phelps sharply. "I mean that Mr. Thorold was once a medical student--at least, I have been told as much." "It is true, quite true," said Sophy, opening her eyes, for in her innocence she did not see what the man meant. But the Rector did, and winced. He anticipated the accuser.