"I can prove that you murdered my brother Hearne."
"Oh, can you, and in what way?"
"I have the bullet which killed him," said the gypsy, speaking very fast so as to prevent interruption. "Kara knifed it out of the tree-trunk which grows near the shrubbery. If I take it to the police and it fits your pistol, then where will you be, my precious cheat?"
Lambert looked at her thoughtfully. If she really did possess the bullet he would be able to learn if Garvington had fired the second shot, since it would fit the barrel of his revolver. So far as he was concerned, when coming to live in the Abbot's Wood Cottage, he had left all his weapons stored in London, and would be able to prove that such was the case. He did not fear for himself, as Chaldea's malice could not hurt him in this way, but he wondered if it would be wise to take her to The Manor, where Garvington was in residence, in order to test the fitting of the bullet. Finally, he decided to risk doing so, as in this way he might be able to force the girl's hand and learn how much she really knew. If aware that Garvington was the culprit, she would exhibit no surprise did the bullet fit the barrel of that gentleman's revolver. And should it be proved that she knew the truth, she would not dare to say anything to the police, lest she should be brought into the matter, as an accomplice after the fact. Chaldea misunderstood his silence, while he was thinking in this way, and smiled mockingly with a toss of her head.
"Ah, the rye is afraid. His sin has come home to him," she sneered. "Hai, you are at my feet now, my Gorgious one."
"I think not," said Lambert coolly, and rose to put on his cap. "Come with me, Chaldea. We go to The Manor."
"And what would I do in the boro rye's ken, my precious?"
Lambert ignored the question. "Have you the bullet with you?"
"Avali," Chaldea nodded. "It lies in my pocket."
"Then we shall see at The Manor if it fits the pistol."