I saw the swift spasm of hatred which crossed her face, as she recognised me; I even fancied that her finger tightened convulsively upon the trigger, and I braced myself for the shock. But she did not fire. Instead, she lowered her pistol with a grim little laugh.
"So it's you!" she said, and stood looking at me, her lips curving maliciously.
"Yes," I answered. "Who did you think it was?"
"Oh, I don't know. A burglar, perhaps."
"You seem to have been prepared for him."
"I always carry this pistol when I go back and forth through the grounds at night."
"And know how to use it, I dare say."
"I think I'd be able to defend myself."
"I'm sure of it. Do you often go back and forth at night?"
"It's sometimes late when I get through here."