“Thought I’d ride over and make an evening of it at your place, Miss Matterson,” he rattled on. “A man gets a bit hipped sometimes all by himself, you know. So glad I fell in with you like this.”
Beryl answered sweetly that so were we, and that they were always glad to see him, and so forth. While I—well, at that moment I could cheerfully have murdered Trask with my own hand.
Chapter Nineteen.
Concerning a Tragedy.
A shot rang out, faint and distant, upon the slumbrous morning air.
“There’s that young schelm George at work,” remarked Brian, raising himself on one elbow to listen.
“At play, rather,” I laughed.
“That’s it. He’s a jolly sight too fond of cutting school in favour of a buck-hunt. The governor spoils him far too much. I wouldn’t.”