“Well?” she asked calmly, as he did not reply immediately.  “What have you to say?”

“It’s about Pine’s death,” said Silver bluntly.

“Sir Hubert, if you please.”

“And why, Lady Agnes?” Silver raised his faint eyebrows.  “We were more like brothers than master and servant.  And remember that it was by the penny toys that I invented your husband first made money.”

“In talking to me, I prefer that you should call my late husband Sir Hubert,” insisted the widow haughtily.  “What have you discovered relative to his death?”

Silver did not answer the question directly.  “Sir Hubert, since you will have it so, Lady Agnes, was a gypsy,” he remarked carelessly.

“That was made plain at the inquest, Mr. Silver.”

“Quite so, Lady Agnes, but there were other things not made plain on that occasion.  It was not discovered who shot him.”

“You tell me nothing new.  I presume you have come to explain that you have discovered a clew to the truth?”

Silver raised his pale face steadily.  “Would you be glad if I had?”

“Certainly!  Can you doubt it?”

The man shirked a reply to this question also.  “Sir Hubert did not treat me over well,” he observed irrelevantly.

“I fear that has nothing to do with me, Mr. Silver.”

“And I was dimissed from my post,” he went on imperturbably.

“On Mr. Jarwin’s advice,” she informed him quickly.  “There was no need for you to be retained.  But I believe that you were given a year’s salary in lieu of notice.”

“That is so,” he admitted.  “I am obliged to you and to Mr. Jarwin for the money, although it is not a very large sum.  Considering what I did for Sir Hubert, and how he built up his fortune out of my brains, I think that I have been treated shabbily.”

Lady Agnes rose, and moved towards the fireplace to touch the ivory button of the electric bell.  “On that point I refer you to Mr. Jarwin,” she said coldly.  “This interview has lasted long enough and can lead to nothing.”

“It may lead to something unpleasant unless you listen to me,” said Silver acidly.  “I advise you not to have me turned out, Lady Agnes.”

“What do you mean?” She dropped the hand she had extended to ring the bell, and faced the smooth-faced creature suddenly.  “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“If you will sit down, Lady Agnes, I can explain.”

“I can receive your explanation standing,” said the widow, frowning.  “Be brief, please.”

“Very well.  To put the matter in a nutshell, I want five thousand pounds.”

“Five thousand pounds!” she echoed, aghast.

“On account,” said Silver blandly.  “On account, Lady Agnes.”

“And for what reason?”

“Sir Hubert was a gypsy,” he said again, and with a significant look.

“Well?”

“He stopped at the camp near Abbot’s Wood.”