“Cicely shall have one to herself; Jack and I will take the other,” said Eve.
“Where is Jack?” demanded Cicely, suddenly. “What have you done with him, Eve?”
Paul opened the door. “Polly!” he cried, in a voice that could have been heard from garret to cellar. Porley, amazed by the sound, came running in, with Jack in her arms. Paul looked at her dubiously, shook his head, and went out.
Cicely took her child, and began to play all his games with him feverishly, one after the other.
Jack was delighted; he played with all his little heart.
XIV.
FOUR days had passed slowly by. “What do you think, judge, of this theory about the shooting,—the one they believe at Romney?” said Paul, on the fifth morning.
“It’s probable enough. Niggers are constitutionally timid, and they always have pistols nowadays; these two boys, it seems, had come over from the mainland to hide; they had escaped from a lock-up, got a boat somewhere and crossed; that much is known. Your brother, perhaps, went wandering about the island; if he came upon them suddenly, with that knife in his hand, like as not they fired.”
“Ferdie was found lying very near the point where your boat was kept.”