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.