“Ah, the rye is afraid.  His sin has come home to him,” she sneered.  “Hai, you are at my feet now, my Gorgious one.”

“I think not,” said Lambert coolly, and rose to put on his cap.  “Come with me, Chaldea.  We go to The Manor.”

“And what would I do in the boro rye’s ken, my precious?”

Lambert ignored the question.  “Have you the bullet with you?”

“Avali,” Chaldea nodded.  “It lies in my pocket.”

“Then we shall see at The Manor if it fits the pistol.”

“Hai! you have left the shooter at the big house,” said the girl, falling into the trap, and thereby proved—­to Lambert at least—­that she was really in the dark as regards the true criminal.

“Lord Garvington has a revolver of mine,” said the young man evasively, although the remark was a true one, since he had presented his cousin with a brace of revolvers some twelve months before.

Chaldea looked at him doubtfully.  “And if the bullet fits—­”

“Then you can do what you like,” retorted Lambert tartly.  “Come on.  I can’t wait here all day listening to the rubbish you talk.”

The gypsy followed him sullenly enough, being overborne by his peremptory manner, and anxious, if possible, to bring home the crime to him.  What she could not understand, for all her cleverness, was, why he should be so eager to condemn himself, and so went to The Manor on the lookout for treachery.  Chaldea always judged other people by herself, and looked upon treachery as quite necessary on certain occasions.  Had she guessed the kind of trap which Lambert was laying for her, it is questionable if she would have fallen into it so easily.  And Lambert, even at this late hour, could not be certain if she really regarded him as guilty, or if she was only bluffing in order to gain her ends.

Needless to say, Garvington did not welcome his cousin enthusiastically when he entered the library to find him waiting with Chaldea beside him.  The fat little man rushed in like a whirlwind, and, ignoring his own shady behavior, heaped reproaches on Lambert’s head.

“I wonder you have the cheek to come here,” he raged.  “You and this beast of a girl.  I want no gypsies in my house, I can tell you.  And you’ve lost me a fortune by your selfish behavior.”

“I don’t think we need talk of selfishness when you are present, Garvington.”

“Why not?  By marrying Agnes you have made her give up the money.”

“She wished to give it up to punish you,” said Lambert rebukingly.

“To punish me!” Garvington’s gooseberry eyes nearly fell out of his head.  “And what have I done?”

Lambert laughed and shrugged his shoulders.  In the face of this dense egotism, it was impossible to argue in any way.  He dismissed the subject and got to business, as he did not wish to remain longer in Garvington’s society than was absolutely necessary.

“This girl,” he said abruptly, indicating Chaldea, who stood passively at his elbow, “has found the bullet with which Pine was shot.”