What was the meaning of the Gordale adventure? All the night through she had puzzled her brains and found no answer. She had feared to follow when she saw her husband pass over the stile that led to the Scar; but curiosity had got the better of nervousness and she had gone round by the farm, forgetting the watch-dog in the yard whose noisy greeting drove her back to the roadway. Eventually she had climbed the wall some distance away, and reached the chasm when the rumbling of the stones was just beginning. Fascinated by what her senses told her was proceeding, she had taken up her position behind a rock and awaited results. The barking of the dog had given her no concern, though she was surprised that it was continued so long; and when the catastrophe occurred and Inman found himself on comparatively level ground again, she had been unable to account for the speed with which he left the gorge and for his choice of that inconvenient exit. It had, however, put pursuit out of the question, and she had returned home by the much shorter field-path, arriving a full half hour before Inman. She had fastened back the latch before leaving and locked the door with the big key, as she had felt certain that her husband’s project would enable her to return first, and it was preoccupied thoughts and the force of habit that had led her to secure the door in the old familiar way, by which unfortunate blunder she was now finding herself thwarted. She was thinking about it, but making no progress towards a solution of the mystery when Inman entered with her breakfast. “Close that window!” he commanded, as he set down the tray on the bed. “I prefer it open,” she replied. “Even prisoners are allowed air.” He made no reply but left the room, returning a minute later with screws and screwdriver, by means of which he made the window secure. Neither of the two spoke until the work was finished, and Nancy poured out her tea with a steady hand. “Hadn’t you better board it up?” she asked as he put the screwdriver in his pocket. “What’s to hinder me from breaking the window?” “The thought that I’ll break your neck!” he replied grimly. She laughed mockingly, all the moorwoman in her roused to defy him. “You dursn’t!” she said. “You’re all for yourself, James, and a man who’s all for himself isn’t for doing the hangman a good turn! Your mind’s willing enough, I daresay, but putting me out o’ my misery wouldn’t help your game.” “That’s true!” he replied, with a calmness equal to her own. “You’ve beaten me so far, but I’ll find a way of hurting you, my lass. I’ll squeeze the blood from your heart drop by drop before I’ve done! Aye, and from that pet-rabbit of yours, too! He’ll scream when the weasel gets his teeth in his neck! There’ll be no mercy then!” “You can’t hurt him!” she said proudly. “He’s too big and good for you!”