then he had pledged
his word of honour, not only that he had not written the letters,
but that there was no truth in the statements they contained.

With that the vicar had to rest content; but worse 'was to follow.

Two evenings later, one of the churchwardens called at the vicarage
and, after behaving in what to the vicar seemed a very strange
manner, he produced from his pocket a letter he had received that
morning, in which were repeated the scandalous statements contained
in the first epistle.

From then on the district was deluged with anonymous letters, all
referring to the alleged passion of the curate for the vicar's
daughter, and the intrigue they were carrying on together. Some of
the letters were frankly indelicate in their expression and, as the
whole parish seethed with the scandal, the vicar appealed to the
police for aid.

One peculiarity of the letters was that all were written upon the
same paper, known as "Olympic Script." This was supplied locally to
a number of people in the neighbourhood, among others, the vicar,
the curate, and the schoolmaster.

Soon the story began to find its way into the newspapers, and
Blade's position became one full of difficulty and embarrassment. He
had consulted Robert Freynes, who had been at Oxford with his father,
and the K.C., convinced of the young man's innocence, had sought
Malcolm Sage's aid.

"You see, Sage," Freynes had remarked, "I'm sure the boy is straight
and incapable of such conduct; but it's impossible to talk to that
ass Murdy. He has no more imagination than a tin-linnet."

Freynes's reference was to Chief Inspector Murdy, of Scotland Yard,
who had been entrusted with the enquiry, the local police having
proved unequal to the problem.

Although Malcolm Sage had promised Robert Freynes that he would
undertake the enquiry into the Gylston scandal, it was not until
nearly a week later that he found himself at liberty to motor down
into Hampshire.

One afternoon the vicar of Gylston, on entering his church, found a
stranger on his knees in the chancel. Note-book in hand, he was
transcribing the inscription of a monumental brass.

As the vicar approached, he observed that the stranger was
vigorously shaking a fountain-pen, from which the ink had evidently
been exhausted.

At the sound of Mr. Crayne's footsteps the stranger looked up,
turning towards him a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles, above which a
bald conical head seemed to contradict t