Thus it happened that while Lambert was breakfasting next morning, somewhere about ten o’clock, word was brought to him by the landlady that a gypsy wished to see him.  The young man at once thought that Mother Cockleshell had called to adjust the situation, and gave orders that she should be admitted.  He was startled and ill-pleased when Chaldea made her appearance.  She looked as handsome as ever, but her face wore a sullen, vicious look, which augured ill for a peaceful interview.

“So you cheated me after all, rye?” was her greeting, and her eyes sparkled with anger at the sight of the man she had lost.

“Don’t be a fool, girl,” said Lambert, purposely rough, for her persistence irritated him.  “You know that I never loved you.”

“Am I so ugly then?” demanded the girl bitterly.

“That remark is beside the point,” said the man coldly.  “And I am not going to discuss such things with you.  But I should like to know why you set spies on me when I was in Devonshire?”

Chaldea’s eyes sparkled still more, and she taunted him.  “Oh, the clever one that you are, to know that I had you watched.  Aye, and I did, my rye.  From the time you left the cottage you were under the looks of my people.”

“Why, may I ask?”

“Because I want revenge,” cried Chaldea, stepping forward and striking so hard a blow on the table that the dishes jumped.  “You scorned me, and now you shall pay for that scorn.”

“Don’t be melodramatic, please.  What can you do to harm me, I should like to know, you silly creature?”

“I can prove that you murdered my brother Hearne.”

“Oh, can you, and in what way?”

“I have the bullet which killed him,” said the gypsy, speaking very fast so as to prevent interruption.  “Kara knifed it out of the tree-trunk which grows near the shrubbery.  If I take it to the police and it fits your pistol, then where will you be, my precious cheat?”

Lambert looked at her thoughtfully.  If she really did possess the bullet he would be able to learn if Garvington had fired the second shot, since it would fit the barrel of his revolver.  So far as he was concerned, when coming to live in the Abbot’s Wood Cottage, he had left all his weapons stored in London, and would be able to prove that such was the case.  He did not fear for himself, as Chaldea’s malice could not hurt him in this way, but he wondered if it would be wise to take her to The Manor, where Garvington was in residence, in order to test the fitting of the bullet.  Finally, he decided to risk doing so, as in this way he might be able to force the girl’s hand and learn how much she really knew.  If aware that Garvington was the culprit, she would exhibit no surprise did the bullet fit the barrel of that gentleman’s revolver.  And should it be proved that she knew the truth, she would not dare to say anything to the police, lest she should be brought into the matter, as an accomplice after the fact.  Chaldea misunderstood his silence, while he was thinking in this way, and smiled mockingly with a toss of her head.