The old woman started, and gazed at him, demanding,
"What makes you ask that?"
"I'll tell you, widow," replied the man. "Have you not heard of a shot fired into Sir John Slingsby's dining-room? Well, that shot went within a few inches of Mr. Beauchamp's head, and that is the man who fired it."
The old woman sank down on the stool by the bedside, and clasped her hands together, exclaiming,
"Is it come to that! Ay, I thought it would, sooner or later. He could not stop--no, no, he could not stop!"
She paused for a moment, and rocked herself backwards and forwards upon the seat, with a pained and bewildered look.
"I see how it is, goody," said Gimlet; "and now I'll tell you. That fellow shan't get off. I'll never give it up till I've caught him. I'll track him, like a hare, to his form, and he shall be punished. Mr. Beauchamp has been kind to me--one of the first that ever were; and I'll not forget kindness, though I'll try to forget unkindness."
"Take care what you are about, Stephen," answered his mother-in-law, "or you may do harm instead of good. Watch him, if you will, to prevent mischief; and above all, let me know every thing that you see and hear. I will talk with Mr. Beauchamp, as you call him, this very day. I wonder if the woman is living!"
"There was one woman with him, at all events," answered Stephen Gimlet, "when he was down here last."
"Ah! what was she like?" inquired Widow Lamb, eagerly; "what was she like?"