Agnes frowned.  “There was no chance of an elopement being arranged,” she observed rather coldly.

“Of course not.  You and I know as much, but I am looking at the matter from the point of view of the person who wrote the letter.  It can’t be your forged handwriting, for Pine would never have believed that you would put him on the track as it were.  No, Agnes.  Depend upon it, the letter was a warning sent by some sympathetic friend, and is probably an anonymous one.”

Agnes nodded meditatively.  “You may be right, Noel.  But who wrote to Hubert?”

“We must see the letter and find out.”

“But if it is my forged handwriting?”

“I don’t believe it is,” said Lambert decisively.  “No conspirator would be so foolish as to conduct his plot in such a way.  However, Chaldea has the letter, according to Silver, and we must make her give it up.  She is sure to be here soon, as she always comes bothering Mrs. Tribb in the afternoon about my health.  Just ring that hand-bell, Agnes.”

“Do you think Chaldea wrote the letter?” she asked, having obeyed him.

“No.  She has not the education to forge, or even to write decently.”

“Perhaps Mr. Silver—­but no.  I taxed him with setting the trap, and he declared that Hubert was more benefit to him alive than dead, which is perfectly true.  Here is Mrs. Tribb, Noel.”

Lambert turned his head.  “Has that gypsy been here to-day?” he asked sharply.

“Not yet, Master Noel, but there’s no saying when she may come, for she’s always hanging round the house.  I’d tar and feather her and slap and pinch her if I had my way, say what you like, my lady.  I’ve no patience with gals of that free-and-easy, light-headed, butter-won’t-melt-in-your-mouth kind.”

“If she comes to-day, show her in here,” said Lambert, paying little attention to Mrs. Tribb’s somewhat German speech of mouth-filling words.

The housekeeper’s black eyes twinkled, and she opened her lips, then she shut them again, and looking at Lady Agnes in a questioning way, trotted out of the room.  It was plain that Mrs. Tribb knew of Chaldea’s admiration for her master, and could not understand why he wished her to enter the house when Lady Agnes was present.  She did not think it a wise thing to apply fire to gunpowder, which, in her opinion, was what Lambert was doing.

There ensued silence for a few moments.  Then Agnes, staring into the fire, remarked in a musing manner, “I wonder who did shoot Hubert.  Mr. Silver would not have done so, as it was to his interest to keep him alive.  Do you think that to hurt me, Noel, Chaldea might have—­”

“No!  No!  No!  It was to her interest also that Pine should live, since she knew that I could not marry you while he was alive.”

Agnes nodded, understanding him so well that she did not need to ask for a detailed explanation.  “It could not have been any of those staying at The Manor,” she said doubtfully, “since every one was indoors and in bed.  Garvington, of course, only broke poor Hubert’s arm under a misapprehension.  Who could have been the person in the shrubbery?”