"But you don't believe--"

"Certainly I don't. All the same it is awkward for both of us."

"I think it was made purposely awkward, Agnes. Whosoever murdered Hubert must have known of my return, and laid the trap on that night, so that I might be implicated."

"But who set the trap?"

"The person who wrote that letter."

"And who wrote the letter?"

"That is what we have to find out from Chaldea!"

At that moment; as if he had summoned her, the gypsy suddenly flung open the door and walked in with a sulky expression on her dark face. At first she had been delighted to hear that Lambert wanted to see her, but when informed by Mrs. Tribb that Lady Agnes was with the young man, she had lost her temper. However, the chance of seeing Lambert was too tempting to forego, so she marched in defiantly, ready to fight with her rival if there was an opportunity of doing so. But the Gentile lady declined the combat, and took no more notice of the jealous gypsy than was absolutely necessary. On her side Chaldea ostentatiously addressed her conversation to Lambert.

"How are you, rye?" she asked, stopping with effort in the middle of the room, for her impulse was to rush forward and gather him to her heaving bosom. "Have you taken drows, my precious lord?"

"What do you mean by drows, Chaldea?"

"Poison, no less. You look drabbed, for sure."

"Drabbed?"

"Poisoned. But I waste the kalo jib on you, my Gorgious. G.o.d bless you for a sick one, say I, and that's a bad dukkerin, the which in gentle Romany means fortune, my Gentile swell."

"Drop talking such nonsense," said Lambert sharply, and annoyed to see how the girl ignored the presence of Lady Agnes. "I have a few questions to ask you about a certain letter."

"Kushto bak to the rye, who showed it to the lady," said Chaldea, tossing her head so that the golden coins jingled.

"He did not show it to me, girl," remarked Lady Agnes coldly.

"Hai! It seems that the rumy of Hearne can lie."

"I shall put you out of the house if you speak in that way," said Lambert sternly. "Silver went to Lady Agnes and tried to blackmail her."

"He's a boro pappin, and that's Romany for a large goose, my Gorgious rye, for I asked no gold."

"You told him to ask five thousand pounds."

"May I die in a ditch if I did!" cried Chaldea vehemently. "Touch the gold of the raclan I would not, though I wanted bread. The tiny rye took the letter to give to the prastramengro, and that's a policeman, my gentleman, so that there might be trouble. But I wished no gold from her. Romany speaking, I should like to poison her. I love you, and--"

"Have done with this nonsense, Chaldea. Talk like that and out you go.

I can see from what you admit, that you have been making mischief."

"That's as true as my father," laughed the gypsy viciously. "And glad am I to say the word, my boro rye. And why should the raclan go free-footed when she drew her rom to be slaughtered like a pig?"

"I did nothing of the sort," cried Agnes, with an angry look.

"Duvel, it is true." Chaldea still addressed Lambert, and took no notice of Agnes. "I swear it on your Bible-book. I found the letter in my brother's tent, the day after he perished. Hearne, for Hearne he was, and a gentle Romany also, read the letter, saying that the raclan, his own romi, was running away with you."

"Who wrote the letter?" demanded Agnes indignantly.

This time Chaldea answered her fiercely. "You did, my Gorgious rani, and lie as you may, it's the truth I tell."

Ill as he was, Lambert could not endure seeing the girl insult Agnes.

With unexpected strength he rose from his chair and took her by the shoulders to turn her out of the room. Chaldea laughed wildly, but did not resist. It was Agnes who intervened. "Let her stay until we learn the meaning of these things, Noel," she said rapidly in French.

"She insults you," he replied, in the same tongue, but released the girl.

"Never mind; never mind." Agnes turned to Chaldea and reverted to English. "Girl, you are playing a dangerous game. I wrote no letter to the man you call Hearne, and who was my husband--Sir Hubert Pine."

Chaldea laughed contemptuously. "Avali, that is true. The letter was written by you to my precious rye here, and Hearne's dukkerin brought it his way."

"How did he get it?"

"Those who know, know," retorted Chaldea indifferently. "Hearne's breath was out of him before I could ask."

"Why do you say that I wrote the letter?"

"The tiny rye swore by his G.o.d that you did."

"It is absolutely false!"

"Oh, my mother, there are liars about," jeered the gypsy sceptically.

"Catch you blabbing your doings on the crook, my rani, Ch.o.r.e mandy--"

"Speak English," interrupted Agnes, who was quivering with rage.

"You can't cheat me," translated Chaldea sulkily. "You write my rye, here, the letter swearing to run world-wide with him, and let it fall into your rom's hands, so as to fetch him to the big house. Then did you, my cunning gentleman," she whirled round on the astounded Lambert viciously, "hide so quietly in the bushes to shoot. Hai! it is so, and I love you for the boldness, my Gorgious one."

"It is absolutely false," cried Lambert, echoing Agnes.

"True! true! and twice times true. May I go crazy, Meg, if it isn't. You wanted the raclan as your romi, and so plotted my brother's death. But your sweet one will go before the Poknees, and with irons on her wrists, and a rope round her--"

"You she-devil!" shouted Lambert in a frenzy of rage, and forgetting in his anger the presence of Agnes.

"Words of honey under the moon," mocked the girl, then suddenly became tender. "Let her go, rye, let her go. My love is all for you, and when we pad the hoof together, those who hate us shall take off the hat."

Lambert sat glaring at her furiously, and Agnes glided between him and the girl, fearful lest he should spring up and insult her. But she addressed her words to Chaldea. "Why do you think I got Mr. Lambert to kill my husband?" she asked, wincing at having to put the question, but seeing that it was extremely necessary to learn all she could from the gypsy.

The other woman drew her shawl closely round her fine form and snapped her fingers contemptuously. "It needs no chovihani to tell. Hearne the Romany was poor, Pine the Gentile c.h.i.n.ked gold in his pockets. Says you to yourself, 'He I love isn't him with money.' And says you, 'If I don't get my true rom, the beauty of the world will clasp him to her breast.'

So you goes for to get Hearne out of the flesh, to wed the rye here on my brother's rich possessions. Avali," she nodded vigorously. "That is so, though 'No' you says to me, for wisdom. Red money you have gained, my daring sister, for the blood of a Romany chal has changed the color.

But I'm no--"

How long she would have continued to rage at Lady Agnes it is impossible to say, for the invalid, with the artificial strength of furious anger, sprang from his chair to turn her out of the room. Chaldea dodged him in the alert way of a wild animal.

"That's no love-embrace, my rye," she jibed, retreating swiftly. "Later, later, when the moon rises, my angel," and she slipped deftly through the door with a contemptuous laugh. Lambert would have followed, but that Agnes caught his arm, and with tears in her eyes implored him to remain.

"But what can we do in the face of such danger?" she asked him when he was quieter, and breaking down, she sobbed bitterly.