“Here is the chain from your cloak. I give it back to you now that it has served its purpose.”
She flung out her hand, and the chain fell close to my Lord Gore’s feet. He did not even trouble to look at it, as though he had no wish to appear seriously concerned.
“We appear to be judge, jury, and witness all in one,” he said. “Come down off that chair, my dear, and don’t be foolish.”
He spoke with an air of amused impatience, but there was something in his eyes that made her know the truth of what she had said.
“You have always thought me a little mad, my lord.”
“No, assuredly not. Only a little strange in your appreciation of a joke. Nan, stay quiet.”
Barbara had put her hands into her bosom, given one glance behind her, and then levelled a pistol at my lord’s breast. The high-backed chair and the settle were scarcely four paces apart.
“I made a promise to myself that I would find out the man who killed my father. When I discovered it I bought these pistols.”
My lady had risen from the window-seat and was standing with her arms spread, her open mouth a black oval, as though she were trying to speak and could not.
“Mother, do not move. I will beseech my Lord of Gore to tell me the truth before I pull the trigger.”