Normally Amy would have received a severe scolding from Cook for using ‘untoward language’, but the moment was interrupted by an officer of the law, who repeated Amy’s instruction that they should leave the house as quickly as possible.

As Cook was unceremoniously propelled from the house by a trembling, terrified Amy, she asked, ‘What in God’s name is going on?’

Amy replied in a fearful voice, ‘It’s the Justice. He’s locked himself in his room upstairs, and he’s daring the officers to come and get him.’

‘Good Lord!’ exclaimed Cook. ‘Where’s the mistress… and her daughter?’

‘It seems the mistress went out on an urgent errand some time ago.’ Amy hesitated to say more.

‘Well? Are you deaf, girl?’ Cook demanded, having recovered enough of her authority to put the parlour maid in her place. ‘What about Mrs Trent? I asked.’

Amy made a faint-hearted gesture with her tousled head, to indicate the upper reaches of the house. ‘Martha Trent’s in there… with her mad father,’ she said in a low, irreverent voice. ‘But I don’t expect she’ll ever again see the light o’day.’

‘What are you talking about, you foolish creature?’ Cook felt an awful panic rising in her.

‘The Justice has threatened to kill her an’ all, if the authorities move in. He will too! He’s got a shotgun!’

Dawn was already lighting the sky when Agnes Crowther returned home, her conscience easier than it had been for many a long year. The information which she had carried in that letter had been badly received by Emma, outlining as it did certain suspicions that Caleb Crowther was directly responsible for the death of her father, Thadius, and that of her mother also. However, in view of the fact that Agnes Crowther had delivered the letter herself, condemning though it was, and because Emma’s aunt held nothing back of her shame in the part she had played when Emma was imprisoned and desperate for help, there was a deal of forgiveness in Emma’s heart for her father’s sister. The letter itself was handed to the officer on duty at the Tanner residence.

Now, as the brougham travelled along the lane which led to Breckleton House, the driver was alerted by another carriage, manned and guarded by officers of the law, and stationed in the drive leading up to the big house. This observation was quickly reported to Agnes Crowther who, on leaning from her window as the carriage drew nearer, was astonished to see how the house itself appeared to be under siege.

‘Sorry, m’lady… you can’t go no further, I’m afraid,’ the officer at the gate told her. Being one of the men who had questioned her on leaving the house earlier, he recognized her at once and explained the situation, adding with genuine sympathy, ‘I’m very sorry, ma’am.’

At that point, a loud shot rang out and the officer sped away to investigate. Defiant and afraid for Martha’s life, Agnes Crowther clambered from the carriage and hurried after him. ‘My daughter’s in there!’ she called. ‘You must let me go to her.’