My late husband's cousin; heir, after my little son, to the title and
estates. He is very poor, deeply in debt, and the inheritance would put
an end to all his difficulties. But he is fond of my son; they seem
almost to worship each other. I, too, am fond of him. But, for all that,
I have to remember that he and he alone would benefit by Cedric's death,
and--and--wicked as it seems--Oh, Mr. Cleek, help me! Direct me!
Sometimes I doubt him. Sometimes I doubt everybody. Sometimes I think of
those other days, that other mystery, that land which reeks of them; and
then--and then--Oh, that horrible Ceylon! I wish I had never set foot in
it in all my life!"

Her agitation and distress were so great as to make her utterances only
half coherent; and Ailsa, realising that this sort of thing must only
perplex Cleek, and leave him in the dark regarding the matter upon which
they had come to consult him, gently interposed.

"Do try to calm yourself and to tell the story as briefly as possible,
dear Lady Chepstow," she advised. Then, taking the initiative, added
quietly, "It begins, Mr. Cleek, at a period when his little lordship,
whose governess I have the honour to be, was but two years old, and at
Trincomalee, where his late father was stationed with his regiment four
years ago. Somebody, for some absurd reason, had set afoot a ridiculous
rumour that the English had received orders from the Throne to stamp out
every religion but their own--in short, if the British were not
exterminated, dreadful desecrations would occur, as they were
determined--"

"To loot all the temples erected to Buddha, destroy the images, and make
a bonfire of all the sacred relics," finished Cleek himself. "I rarely
forget history, Miss Lorne, especially when it is such recent history
as that memorable Buddhist rising at Trincomalee. It began upon an
utterly unfounded, ridiculous rumour; it terminated, if my memory serves
me correctly, in something akin to the very thing it was supposed to
avert. That is to say, during the outburst of fanaticism, that most
sacred of all relics--the holy tooth of Buddha--disappeared mysteriously
from the temple of Dambool, and in spite of the fact that many lacs of
rupees were offered for its recovery, it has never, I believe, been
found, or even traced, to this day, although a huge fortune awaits the
restorer, and, with it, overpowering honours from the native princes.
Those must have been trying times, Lady Chepstow, fo