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                      [Illustration: Cover]



                         The Pagan's Cup

                                BY

                           Fergus Hume


                            AUTHOR OF

                  "THE MYSTERY OF A HANSOM CAB,"
                      "THE RAINBOW FEATHER,"
                  "CLAUDE DUVAL OF NINETY-FIVE,"
                               ETC.


                     [Illustration: Vignette]


                             NEW YORK

                     G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY

                            PUBLISHERS





                       Copyright, 1902, by

                     G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY

                      [All rights reserved]




_The Pagan's Cup_




CONTENTS


   CHAP.                             PAGE
      I.  A Modern Arcadia              1
     II.  The Crusaders' Chapel        14
    III.  The Lady of the Manor        28
     IV.  The Dinner-Party             42
      V.  Love's Young Dream           58
     VI.  Trouble                      71
    VII.  A Nine Days' Wonder          87
   VIII.  Haverleigh's Defence        101
     IX.  A Bad Reputation            113
      X.  The Price of Silence        126
     XI.  The London Detective        140
    XII.  A Surprise                  154
   XIII.  An Interesting Document     168
    XIV.  An Unexpected Meeting       183
     XV.  A New Complication          198
    XVI.  Sybil's Visitor             214
   XVII.  Lord Kilspindie Explains    227
  XVIII.  A Miracle                   242
    XIX.  A Story of the Past         257
     XX.  Mrs Gabriel's Secret        276




THE PAGAN'S CUP




CHAPTER I

A MODERN ARCADIA


Certain portions of England yet remain undiscovered by Americans and
uncivilised by railways. Colester village above King's-meadows, in a
county which need not be named, is one of these unknown spots. No doubt
before long the bicycle and the motor-car will enliven its somnolent
neighbourhood, but at present it is free from the summer jaunts of
tourists. With this neglect the Colester folk profess themselves
satisfied. They have no wish to come into contact with the busy world.
This prejudice against intrusion dates from mediaeval times, when
strangers rarely came to the village with peaceful intentions. Even now
a chance comer is looked upon with suspicion.

Mr Richard Pratt said something of this sort to the vicar during a
morning ramble, some six weeks after he had taken up his residence in
The Nun's House. With the parson and the gentry of the parish Mr Pratt
agreed very well, his respectability having been vouched for by Mrs
Gabriel, the lady of the manor. But the villagers still held aloof,
although the newcomer did his best to overcome their churlish doubts.
They did not credit his story that he had settled in Colester to pass
his remaining years in peace, and even the money he scattered so freely
could not buy their loyalty. Pratt had never met with such people
before. In most countries an open purse invites an open heart; but the
Colester villagers were above Mammon worship. Such an experience was
refreshing to Pratt, and introduced him to a new type of humanity.

"The first place I ever struck in which the dollar is not all-powerful,"
he said, with his Yankee twang and pleasant laugh.

"We are not sufficiently educated in that respect," replied Mr Tempest
in his simple way. "For my part, I am not ill pleased that my
parishioners should refuse to worship the Golden Calf."

"There is no calf about me, I guess," said Pratt, grimly, "and very
little gold. I don't say I haven't a decent income, but as to being a
millionaire--no, sir."

"In the kingdom of the blind the one-eyed is king, Mr Pratt. You are a
millionaire in this poor place. But I fear you find it dull."

"Why, no, vicar. I'm glad to be out of the buzz. The world's made up of
nerves and machinery nowadays. At fifty-two years of age I can't stand
the racket. This Sleepy Hollow's good enough for me to stay in until I
peg out. Guess I'll buy an allotment in that graveyard of yours."

"Hollow!" said the vicar, smiling, "and our earthly dwelling-place is
set upon a hill! Mr Pratt, I suspect you have Irish blood in your
veins."

Pratt laughed, and being to a large extent devoid of humour, explained
earnestly that he had used the word figuratively. "Washington Irving,
Rip Van Winkle," he explained, nodding, whereat the vicar smiled again.

The situation of Colester was striking and strange. A green-clothed
promontory extended abruptly from the high table-land into
King's-meadow. To right and left chalky cliffs of considerable height
flared away for miles, forming a buttress to the moors above and walls
to the plains