“Quite so.  But Silver won’t give up the letter.”

“Oh, yes, he will.  He’s my secretary, and I’ll make him.”

“Even as your secretary he won’t,” said Lambert, dubiously.

“We’ll see about that, old boy.  I’ll heckle and harry and worry Silver on to the gallows if he doesn’t do what he’s told.”

“The gallows.  You don’t think—­”

“Oh, I think nothing.  It was to Silver’s interest that Pine should live, so I don’t fancy he set the trap.  It was to Chaldea’s interest that Pine should not live, since she loves you, and I don’t think she is to blame.  Garvington couldn’t have done it, as he has lost a good friend in Pine, and—­and—­go on Lambert, suggest some one else.”

“I can’t.  And two out of three you mention were inside The Manor when the second shot was fired, so can prove an alibi.”

“I’m not bothering about who fired the second shot,” said Miss Greeby leisurely, “but as to who wrote that letter.  Once we find the forger, we’ll soon discover the assassin.”

“True; but how are you going about it?”

“I shall see Silver and force him to give me the letter.”

“If you can.”

“Oh, I’ll manage somehow.  The little beast’s a coward, and I’ll bully him into compliance.”  Miss Greeby spoke very confidently.  “Then we’ll see the kind of paper the letter is written on, and there may be an envelope which would show where it was posted.  Of course, the forger must be well acquainted with Agnes’s handwriting.”

“That’s obvious,” said Lambert promptly.  “Well, I suppose that your way of starting the matter is the best.  But we have only four days before Silver makes his move.”

“When I get the letter he won’t make any move,” reported Miss Greeby, and she looked very determined.

“Let us hope so.  But, Clara, before you return to town I wish you would see Mother Cockleshell.”

“That old gypsy fortune-teller, who looks like an almshouse widow?  Why?”

“She hates Chaldea, and I suspect that Chaldea has something to do with the matter of this conspiracy.”

“Ha!” Miss Greeby rubbed her aquiline nose.  “A conspiracy.  Perhaps you may be right.  But its reason?”

Lambert colored.  “Chaldea wants me to marry her, you know.”

“The minx!  I know she does.  I warned you against having her to sit for you, Lambert.  But there’s no sense in your suggestion, my boy.  It wasn’t any catch for her to get Pine killed and leave his wife free to marry you.”

“No.  And yet—­and yet—­hang it,” the young man clutched his hair in desperation and glared at the fire, “I can’t see any motive.”

“Nor can I. Unless it is to be found in the City.”

“Gypsies are more lawless than City men,” observed the other quickly, “and Hearne would have enemies rather than Pine.”

“I don’t agree with you,” said Miss Greeby, rising and getting ready to go away.  “Hearne was nobody:  Pine was a millionaire.  Successful men have enemies all over the shop.”