She thought he had just put it out, since she noted a smell of oil.
Now she had found the intruder, she was less afraid than angry that he had pulled about her clothes with his coarse, dirty hands.

She knew him, for he was the teamster she had seen in the orchard.

The beam that picked him out, however, left the rest of the room in gloom, and it was hard to hold the torch steady.
"Light your lantern, but don't move from where you are," she said.

"I have a pistol." He did as he was told, using an old-fashioned sulphur match that smelt disagreeably but made no noise.

The light spread and showed her standing with the pistol in her hand, but when she risked a glance about, nothing seemed to have been disturbed except the writing-table and her trunk.
"Now you may get up, but don't be rash," she said quietly and was glad to feel she could control her voice.
He got up and waited, watching her sullenly.
"What have you taken ?" she asked.
"Nothing! There was nothing worth taking!" Agatha forced a mocking smile.