An exclamation of pain escaped from Amy’s lips at the baseness of the insinuation conveyed in these words, and Lionel had almost rushed out to strangle her maligner on the spot; but discretion prompted him to remain where he stood. “Oh, yes, it is very fine to assume an injured tone, but I saw him kiss you this morning--I saw him through the window. You cannot deny it. What will Lord Verner think of that? Eh, _ma bonne sœur_?” “And this will be your story to Lord Verner,” said Amy, trembling with indignation, “if I do not find the money you ask for?” “It will most assuredly,” said Richard. “Then tell your story, sir--tell your story at once; I will rather throw myself upon Lord Verner’s love, the consciousness of my own innocence, and the honour of Lionel Hammerton, than buy your silence any longer, you miserable unscrupulous man,” said Amy; and then it seemed as if she hurried away, or as if they had passed within the old court-yard of the ruined castle. Just then the moon shone forth brightly for a moment, and Lionel heard voices again in the direction of the court-yard; but the intervening walls were too thick for him to hear distinctly anything that was said. As he came forth to reconnoitre a pistol was fired, and then a terrible cry broke upon the still evening air--a shriek that echoed through the broken old corridors, startling the bats and the owls. Hurrying to the spot, Lionel found Richard Tallant stretched upon the turf. And now the moon shone forth in all its autumnal glory, sending a pale gleam through the court-yard and athwart the figure of the dying man. Hastily raising the body up, Lionel found that the man had been shot through the right temple. The ball must have penetrated the brain, for he was quite dead, and the blood was streaming down his pale cheek. One of the castle servants had heard the report of the pistol and the cry that followed it, and he had hurried to the ruin too, and found Lionel supporting the dead body. Mr. Hammerton bade him alarm the household, and in a short time Richard Tallant was lying dead in the room to which his luggage had been carried. What a terrible night it was--that night of the murder! The police came from Brazencrook, and made all sorts of inquiries. They found a pistol lying near the spot where the body was found. A case of suicide was the first suggestion; but it seemed that a breast-pocket in the gentleman’s coat was turned inside out, and torn as if something had been violently removed from it, and there was a bruise on the back of the right hand as if the deceased had attempted for a moment to defend himself after he had fallen, and been struck with a stick or with the butt-end of the pistol. “Where is her ladyship?” Lionel asked of the maid. “In her room, and very unwell indeed,” was the reply.