“You don’t know what you have done, father.”

“You are mad, mad,” the general gasped.

His face was very pale, and he trembled a little, for though he had heard many bullets whistle by his ears, that had happened in action against an enemy, and was altogether different from this.  He put out his hand in an attempt to take the pistol that Rupert easily evaded.

“Give it to me,” he said.  “I saved his life; you might have killed him.”

“Yes, you saved him, father,” Rupert muttered, thinking to himself that the saving of Walter’s life might well mean the loss of Ella’s, since very likely the failure of their plots would be at once attributed by the conspirators to her.  “Father, I never wrote that letter you say you had.  Walter forged it to get you here, where he meant to kill us both.  That’s why he looked like that, that’s why he had his gun.”

General Dunsmore only stared blankly at him for a moment.

“Kill me?  Kill you?  What for?” he gasped.

“So that he might become Lord Chobham of Wreste Abbey instead of Lord Chobham’s poor relation,” answered Rupert.  “The poison attempt on uncle which Walter discovered was first of all his own doing; it was through him Charley Wright lost his life.  He has committed at least one other murder.  Today he meant to kill both of us.  Then he would have been heir to the title and estates, and when uncle died he would have been Lord Chobham.”

“Nonsense, absurd, impossible.  You’re mad, quite mad,” the general stammered.  “Why, he would have been hanged at once.”

“Not if he could have fixed the blame elsewhere,” Rupert answered.  “That was to have been my part; it was carefully arranged to make it seem I was responsible for it all.  I haven’t time to explain now.  I don’t think he is coming back.  I expect he is only loaded with small shot, and he doesn’t dare try a long range shot or come near now he knows I’m ready for him.”

“But it’s—­it’s impossible—­Walter,” stammered the general.  “Impossible.”

“The impossible so often happens,” answered Rupert, and handed his pistol to him.  “You must trust me, father, and do what I tell you.  Take this pistol in case you are attacked on the way home.  You may be, but I don’t think it’s likely.  Get the motor out and go straight to Wreste Abbey.  An attempt on uncle’s life will be made tonight, if they still carry out their plans, about dinner-time tonight.  See that every possible precaution is taken.  See to that first.  Then send help as soon as you can to Bittermeads, a house on the outskirts of Ramsdon; any one there will tell you where it is.”

“But what are you going to do?” General Dunsmore asked.

“I’m going to find Walter, if he’s still hiding in the wood here, as he may be,” Rupert answered.  “I should like a little chat with him.”  For a moment he nearly lost his self-control, and for a single moment there showed those fiery and tempestuous passions he was keeping now in such stern repression.  “Yes a little talk with him, just us two,” he said.  “And if he’s cleared out, or I can’t find him I’m going straight on to Bittermeads.  There’s some one there who may be in danger, so the sooner I am there the better.”