The Mis-Rule of Three by Florence Warden

It was the work of a moment. The scream, the turn, the threatening gesture, then the dropping of the weapon and an abrupt change on the old man's face, accompanied by a loud, forced laugh. Bayre scarcely realised what it all meant, even as he stepped hastily down to the half-landing and looked up into the misty recesses of the galleried floor above.

Then from out of the dimness he saw a face, the face of Olwen Eden; and if he had not known before what the look and gesture meant which he had surprised in his uncle, he knew now.