Sophy looked at him with a satirical smile. Then she turned to address Lestrange as the senior partner in this firm of scoundrels. "How much do you want?" she asked. The Captain winced. He did not like the question to be put quite so crudely. "I do not understand," he said. "I think you do. How much do you require to hold your tongue?" "Say five thousand," whispered Mr. Gramp. But Lestrange shook him off, and marched to the door very upright and indignant. "I will let you know my price----" "Ah!" said Sophy scornfully. "When I have seen the police," finished he, and marched out. Cicero had to follow, but he turned at the door and winked. "He will not go to the police," said he, in a hurried voice. "Might I suggest five----" "Be off, you scoundrel!" cried the Rector indignantly, and thrust him out. Then he resumed his seat, and looked at Sophy. "Well?" said he. "Alan can explain," said she decisively. "But if Lestrange goes to the police?" "He won't," she said. "Cicero will stop that. Meanwhile I wait for Alan." They talked on for a long time, but could come to no conclusion. Undoubtedly Alan had been near the vault on that night, had been in the hut, and had said nothing of these things to any one. It certainly looked suspicious, but Sophy insisted that her lover could and would explain. In spite of appearances, she had faith in Alan's honesty and in Alan's honor. That same evening she dined with the Rector, without even Miss Vicky in attendance. Towards the end of the meal, Alan walked in unexpectedly. He looked somewhat downcast, but there was no sign of fear in his bearing. After greetings had been exchanged he sat down with them. Neither the Rector nor Sophy was anxious to inform him of the accusation which had been brought against him. "How went the business?" asked Mr. Phelps. "Badly--for us," was the reply. "Lestrange certainly arrived by the boat he said he came by. I saw his name, Achille Lestrange, on the passenger-list of the _Negress_." "Ah! the devil speaks true sometimes!" said the Rector. "And what about Beauchamp?" "Yes, yes!" cried Sophy. "Did you find him? Did you see him?" "No," replied Alan quietly, "but I heard of him. Beauchamp is dead!" CHAPTER XVI. ALAN'S DEFENSE "Dead!" repeated Sophy, after a pause. "Then was this Mr. Beauchamp really my father or a relative?" "I think he was Mr. Marlow, dear," said her lover gravely. "No doubt your father intended to feign death to escape Lestrange, but it would seem that he overdid it, and really died. I saw the manager of the Occidental Bank. He informed me that he had received a letter telling him that Beauchamp was dead." "How long ago was this?" "A little over a week." "Who wrote the letter?" "That he refused to tell me." "Had he seen this Mr. Beauchamp, to whom the money was to be paid?"