bullet," snapped Miss Greeby glaring, for she dreaded lest its
production should incriminate Lambert, innocent though she believed him
to be.

"Kara can prove it. He went to where Hearne was shot and saw that there
was a big tree by the blue door, and before the shrubbery. A shot fired
from behind the bushes would by chance strike the tree. The bullet which
killed my brother was not found in the heart. It passed through and was
in the tree-trunk. Kara knifed it out and brought it to me. If this,"
Chaldea held up the bullet again jeeringly, "fits the pistol of the big
rye he will swing for sure. The letter hangs her and the bullet hangs
him. I want my price."

"You won't get it, then," said Miss Greeby, eyeing the pocket into
which the girl had again dropped the bullet. "Mr. Lambert was absent in
London on that night. I heard that by chance."

"Then you heard wrong, my Gentile lady. Avali, quite wrong. The big rye
returned on that very night and went to Lundra again in the morning."

"Even if he did," said Miss Greeby desperately, "he did not leave the
cottage. His housekeeper can prove--"

"Nothing," snapped Chaldea triumphantly. "She was in her bed and the
golden rye was in his bed. My brother was killed after midnight, and if
the rye took a walk then, who can say where he was?"

"You have to prove all this, you know."

Chaldea snapped her fingers. "First, the letter to shame her; then the
bullet to hang him. The rest comes after. My price, you know, my
Gorgious artful. I toves my own gad. It's a good proverb, lady, and true
Romany."

"What does it mean?"

"I wash my own shirt," said Chaldea, significantly, and sprang up the
steps of her gaily-painted caravan to shut herself in.

"What a fool I am not to take that bullet from her," thought Miss
Greeby, standing irresolutely before the vehicle, and she cast a glance
around to see if such an idea was feasible. It was not, as she speedily
decided, for a single cry from Chaldea would bring the gypsies round to
protect their new queen. It was probable also that the girl would fight
like a wild cat; although Miss Greeby felt that she could manage her so
far. But she was not equal to fighting the whole camp of vagrants, and
so was compelled to abandon her scheme. In a somewhat discontented mood,
she turned away, feeling that, so far, Chaldea had the whip-hand.

Then it occurred to her that she had not yet examined Mother Cockleshell
as had been her original inte