“In a moment I realised that Miss Bassett must have grasped the situation; that her asking me to carry in her cat was a ruse, and that while the beast was struggling between my hands she must have stolen the revolver from behind. I say I knew that, and yet even then, when I thought of her look, her manner, the sort of nervous old thing she was, I couldn’t believe what I knew. Then I remembered her voice when she said ‘Good-night’ to me in the passage, her eyes looking down instead of at me, and that she was only holding the lantern in one hand, whereas in the garden she was using two. She must have had the revolver in her other hand concealed in the folds of her dress. I ran back to the cottage door, and knocked--hard. Not that I thought she’d open. I knew she wouldn’t, but she did directly. I could hardly speak. I was afraid of myself just then. At last I said: “‘Miss Bassett, you know what I want.’ “‘You can’t have it,’ she said, looking straight at me. “I kept quiet for a second, then I said: “‘Miss Bassett, I don’t think you know that you’re running into danger.’ For I felt that there was danger for her then if she went against me. She knew it, too, perhaps better than I did. I saw her poor old hands, all blue veins, beginning to tremble. “‘You can’t have it, Lord Inley,’ she repeated. “There wasn’t the ghost of a quiver in her voice. “‘I must, I will!’ I said, and I made a movement towards her--a violent movement I know it was. “But the old thing stood her ground. Oh, she was a gallant old woman. “‘Do what you like to me,’ she said. ‘I’m old. What does it matter? She’s young.’ “Then I knew she understood. “‘You’ve seen them together!’ I said. ‘Since I went!’ “She wouldn’t say. Not a word. I was mad. I forgot decency, everything. I took her. I searched her for the revolver. I searched her roughly--God forgive me. She trembled horribly, but never said a word. It wasn’t on her. She must have hidden it somewhere in that moment when she was alone in the cottage. That was another ruse to keep me searching in there while-- But I saw it almost directly. I broke away, and rushed out and down the road. Something seemed to tell me they had passed. I got into the lane that leads to Charfield. The fly was gone. Then, all of a sudden, I felt perfectly calm. I turned, and went up to the Abbey gates. I knocked them up at the lodge. The keeper came out. When he saw me he said: “‘You, my lord! However did you know?’ “‘Go on!’ I said. ‘Know what?’ “‘About Master Hugo?’ “I didn’t say one way or the other. “‘The doctor says it’s a bitter bad quinsy, but there’s just a chance. Her ladyship’s nearly mad. It only came on a few hours ago quite sudden.’ “I went up to the Abbey, and found Vere by the child’s bed. She looked flushed, and was breathing hard, as if she had just been running.” He stopped, and took out his cigar-case. “Running!” I said.