When Paul left Cicely’s lodge, Eve closed the door. “Cicely, I have something to tell you. Listen.”
“It is a pity you like that man—that Paul Tennant,” Cicely answered.
“If I do like him, I can never be anything to him. This is what I wanted to tell you: that I shot his brother.”
“Well, if his brother was like him—”
“Oh, Cicely, it was Ferdie—your Ferdie.”
“What do you know about Ferdie?” demanded Cicely, coldly. “He never liked you in the least.”
“Don’t you know, Cicely, that Ferdie is dead?”
“Oh, yes, I know it. Paul would not let me go to him, and he died all alone.”
“And do you know what was the cause of his death?”
“Yes; he was shot; there were some negroes, they got away in a boat.”