He tried another question.
“What was it I saw you hunting for that day in the great hall,” asked he, “when you appeared to be tearing up the boards of the floor?”
Her face grew sombre again.
“Oh,” said she, after a pause, “I was looking for something, something that had been hidden from me, something I wanted to find.”
A light came into Bayre’s mind.
“Was it your cousin’s will?” asked he, sharply.
By the convulsive movement which passed through her he knew that he had made a good guess.
“If so,” he went on very quietly, “you didn’t succeed in finding it, I know.”
Into the wicked old leathern face there came a look of malicious anxiety, and Bayre began to understand things more clearly.
“I suppose,” said he, “that my uncle made a will which did not please you, and that he would not let you know where he kept it, and that it was because you knew its provisions that you determined to carry out this fraud. You were alone with him when he died—”