“Would to God I could think so,� I replied.
“You mean that he was—murdered?�
“Mistress,� said I bluntly, seeing no other way, “he died by his own hand.�
“Oh, my God!� she cried, clapping her hands to her face and reeling back.
I caught her about the waist. She had no knowledge that she was held or supported, of course; all her interest and attention were elsewhere. She did not weep or give way otherwise. She was a marvelous woman and her self-mastery and control amazed me, for I knew how she had loved her father.
“When? Why?� she gasped out.
“I was early awake and abroad,� I answered—and I did not tell her it was my habit to see her gallop off for that morning ride, for even a glimpse of her was worth much to me—“and I heard a shot in the spinney. I hurried there and found Sir Geoffrey—�
“Dead?�
“Stone dead, mistress, with a bullet in his heart.�
“Let us go to him.�