“Everything’s the matter, confound your inquisitiveness.  Hasn’t Agnes lost all her money because of this selfish marriage with Noel, hang him?  How the dickens do you expect us to carry on unless we borrow?”

“Can’t you get some money from the person who now inherits?”

“Jarwin won’t tell me the name.”

“But I know who it is,” said Lady Garvington triumphantly.  “One of the servants who went to the gypsy camp this afternoon told my maid, and my maid told me.  The gypsies are greatly excited, and no wonder.”

Freddy stared at her.  “Excited, what about?”

“Why, about the money, dear.  Don’t you know?”

“No, I don’t!” shouted Freddy, breaking a glass in his irritation.  “What is it?  Bother you, Jane.  Don’t keep me hanging on in suspense.”

“I’m sure I never do, Freddy, dear.  It’s Hubert’s money which has gone to his mother.”

Garvington jumped up.  “Who—­who—­who is his mother?” he demanded, furiously.

“That dear old Gentilla Stanley.”

“What!  What!  What!”

“Oh, Freddy,” said his wife plaintively.  “You make my head ache.  Yes, it’s quite true.  Celestine had it from William the footman.  Fancy, Gentilla having all that money.  How lucky she is.”

“Oh, damn her; damn her,” growled Garvington, breaking another glass.

“Why, dear.  I’m sure she’s going to make good use of the money.  She says—­so William told Celestine—­that she would give a million to learn for certain who murdered poor Hubert.”

“Would she? would she? would she?” Garvington’s gooseberry eyes nearly dropped out of his head, and he babbled, and burbled, and choked, and spluttered, until his wife was quite alarmed.

“Freddy, you always eat too fast.  Go and lie down, dear.”

“Yes,” said Garvington, rapidly making up his mind to adopt a certain course about which he wished his wife to know nothing.  “I’ll lie down, Jane.”

“And don’t take any more wine,” warned Jane, as she drifted out of the dining-room.  “You are quite red as it is, dear.”

But Freddy did not take this advice, but drank glass after glass until he became pot-valiant.  He needed courage, as he intended to go all by himself to the lonely Abbot’s Wood Cottage and interview Silver.  It occurred to Freddy that if he could induce the secretary to give up Miss Greeby to justice, Mother Cockleshell, out of gratitude, might surrender to him the sum of one million pounds.  Of course, the old hag might have been talking all round the shop, and her offer might be bluff, but it was worth taking into consideration.  Garvington, thinking that there was no time to lose, since his cousin might be beforehand in denouncing the guilty woman, hurried on his fur overcoat, and after leaving a lying statement with the butler that he had gone to bed, he went out by the useful blue door.  In a few minutes he was trotting along the well-known path making up his mind what to say to Silver.  The interview did not promise to be an easy one.