of which Scarterfield had been telling me--an
old-fashioned, grey-walled, red-roofed place, the outer door of which
was just then being closed for the day by a white-whiskered old porter
in a sober-hued uniform. Was it possible--could it really be--that the
story which had recently ended in a double murder had begun in that
quiet-looking house, through the criminality of an untrustworthy
employee? But did I say ended?--nay, for all I knew the murderers of
the Quicks were only an episode, a chapter in the story--the end
was--where?

Then Scarterfield came back and from a big envelope drew forth and
placed in my hands two folded pieces of old, time-yellowed parchment.

CHAPTER XIII

THE SPOILS OF SACRILEGE

Until that moment I had not thought much about the reason of my
presence at Blyth--I had, at any rate, thought no more than that
Scarterfield had merely come across some writing which he found it
hard to decipher. But one glance at the documents which he placed in
my hands showed me that he had accidentally come across a really
important find; within another moment I was deeply engrossed, and he
saw that I was. He sat silently watching me; once or twice, looking up
at him, I saw him nod as if to imply that he had felt sure of the
importance of the things he had given me. And presently, laying the
documents on the table between us, I smiled at him.

"Scarterfield!" I said. "Are you at all up in the history of your own
country?"

"Couldn't say that I am, Mr. Middlebrook," he answered with a shake of
his head. "Not beyond what a lad learns at school--and I dare say I've
forgotten a lot of that. My job, you see, has always been with the
hard facts of the actual present--not with what took place in the
past."

"But you're up to certain notable episodes?" I suggested. "You know,
for instance, that when the religious houses were suppressed--abbeys,
priories, convents, hospitals--in the reign of Henry the Eighth, a
great deal of their plate and jewels were confiscated to the use of
the King?"

"Oh, I've heard that!" he admitted. "Nice haul the old chap got, too,
I'm given to understand."

"He didn't get all," said I. "A great deal of the monastic plate
disappeared--clean vanished. It used to be said that a lot of it was
hidden away or buried by its owners, but it's much more likely that it
was stolen by the covetous and greedy folk of the neighbourhood--the
big men, of course. Anyway, while a great deal w