borrowed from him was in order to help your fellow-criminal – a man who once did him an evil turn – after he had served his sentence. He wants his money back, and he is going to take it. The property will be up for auction in a week or so.”
“But I won’t be swindled in this way!” cried old Mr Homfray.
“Act just as you wish – but remember, if you make any move it will be the worse for you. Gordon is not a man to stick at trifles,” the woman said.
“I know that,” said the rector.
“And it is a very ugly skeleton you have in your cupboard,” remarked the woman with a sinister smile.
“The property at Totnes is worth over four thousand pounds,” he said.
“You have only to repay the money with interest and the matter is ended.”
Mr Homfray paused.
Then, looking straight into the woman’s evil face, he said:
“It is you, woman, who once swore to ruin me because I would not assist you in that vile plot of yours! You thought to trap me, a minister of the Church, into assisting you to entice that fly into the web you had so cunningly spun for him. But you were mistaken! I saw through your evil game, and because I did so you vowed vengeance upon me. And this is the hour of your triumph!” he added bitterly in a deep, hoarse voice, and one quite unusual to him.
The woman’s thin lips were pressed together, but she made no immediate reply.
At last she said:
“I am only here on Mr Gray’s behalf.”
“But it is you who have goaded him to do this – to take this action, well knowing that at the moment I cannot pay.”
“That surely is not my affair,” snapped the woman, while old Mr Homfray stood aghast at the sudden blow which had fallen to crush him.
What would his son Roddy think if he learnt the truth concerning that closed chapter of his father’s past? What would the parish of Little Farncombe say if they knew that their respected rector had fallen among thieves?
“Won’t Gray come here himself and talk over the matter?” he asked presently.
“No. He motored back to London as soon as the service was over. He had a fancy to see you and hear you preach to your dear parishioners, who, in all their innocence, believe in you, Mr Homfray,” and again the woman laughed sardonically. “So he sent me to see you in private, and to tell you his intentions.”
“Are you quite certain he will not come and see me?”
“I urged him to do so, but he refused,” said the woman.
“Because he fears to face me!” exclaimed the rector. “He fears lest I, on my part, should speak the truth. I trusted Gordon Gray – trusted him as my friend – but I have been sadly disillusioned to-night, for I have found that he is my enemy, and I am now forearmed.”
“That is no concern of mine whatever. I have given you his message.”
The Rector of Little Farncombe looked straight into her face with his calm grey eyes behind his shaggy brows.
“Then I will send a message back to him,” he slowly replied. “As he refuses to come here and deliver his ultimatum in person, I will, in return, deliver my ultimatum to him. Go back and tell him that I defy him. Tell him that if either he or you lift a finger against me, then the truth concerning the death of young Hugh Willard will be known to Scotland Yard, and the affair of Hyde Park Square will be cleared up by the arrest of the assassin. Tell him that though he thinks there was no witness, yet one still exists – one who will come forward with indisputable proof. You know his name. Gordon Gray and I were friends until to-night. But we are no longer so. We are enemies. And you know to much of the affair as I do?”
The woman staggered as though he had dealt her a blow. Her evil face went ashen in an instant, and her dark eyes started from her head.
“What – what do you mean?” she gasped.
“What I have said! You heard my message to Gordon Gray; go and deliver it. Remember that if either of you molest me, or attempt to swindle me as you are now doing, then I shall reveal all that I know. My silence depends upon you both. So begone!” he added calmly, with firm resolve.
For a few moments the woman in furs stood motionless and silent.
“You will regret those words, Mr Homfray!” she said at last, threateningly. “I will deliver your message, but you will regret it. Remember that!”
“I assure you I have no fear,” laughed the old rector. “While Gordon Gray acted honestly as the friend I believed him to be, I remained his friend. Now that we are enemies it is I who can – and will – speak in self-defence. He threatens me with ruin, but little does he dream what I know concerning the young fellow’s death and who was implicated in it – how the snare was set to ruin him, and afterwards to close his lips!”
The handsome woman shrugged her shoulders, but her face had entirely changed. She had been taken entirely aback by the open defiance of the man who, in her fierce vindictiveness, she had intended should be her victim. She had believed the hour of her triumph to be at hand, instead of which she saw that an abyss had opened before her – one into which she and her accomplice Gray must assuredly fall unless they trod a very narrow and intricate path.
“Very well,” she laughed with well-feigned defiance. “I will give Gordon your message. And we shall see!”
With those words she passed to the heavy plush curtains and disappeared behind them out upon the lawn, beyond which, separated only by a wire fence, lay a small and picturesque wood which ran down the hill for a quarter of a mile or so.
Old Mr Homfray followed her, and with a sigh, closed the long glass door and bolted it.
Then, returning to the fireplace, he stood upon the hearthrug with folded arms, thinking deeply, faintly murmured words escaping his pale lips.
“Roddy must never know!” he repeated.
“If he knew the truth concerning that slip in my past what would he think of me? He would regard his father as a liar and a hypocrite!”
Again he remained silent for a considerable time.
“Gordon Gray!” he muttered. “It seems impossible that he should rise from the grave and become my enemy, after all I have done in his interests. I believed him to be my friend! But he is under the influence of that woman – that woman who means to ruin me because I refused to render her assistance in that vile scheme of hers!”
Suddenly, as he stood there before the blazing logs, he recollected the sixth chapter of St. Luke.
“Love your enemies,” he repeated aloud. “Do good to those who hate you. And unto him that smiteth you on the one cheek, offer also the other.”
And there before the big arm-chair the fine old fellow sank upon his knees and prayed silently for his enemy and his female accomplice.
Afterwards he rose, and re-seating himself in his chair sat with his eyes closed, recalling all the tragedy and villainy concerned with young Hugh Willard’s mysterious death in London five years before – an enigma that the police
