CHAPTER III
BARTON GILL UNDER NOTICE
The mind of Barton Gill was exercised, for he had heard painful news and suddenly learned the unsuspected opinion of another man concerning him. He felt shocked and cast down, having never guessed that Jacob Bullstone contemplated the possibility which now confronted Mr. Gill as a fact.
Barton was sixty-eight and, in his own opinion, as active and apprehensive as ever. Looking back he perceived that he had actually outgrown some weaknesses of middle age; while with respect to his knowledge of dogs, no man could deny that it embraced everything of importance.
Returning from Brent, the kennel-man fell in with Adam Winter and revealed his troubles.
"Hast heard the black news, Adam?" he began. "But of course you have not. It only burst upon me yesterday."
"Can it be bettered, or is it one of they fatal things beyond repair?" asked Winter.
It was his solid custom on all occasions to help if harm might be averted, but not to fret unduly at evil accomplished.
"Whether it's going to be fatal remains to be seen; but I don't feel an ounce of hope," said Gill. "In a word—Jacob Bullstone. You know his way. He'll store his thoughts, and smile, and hide what's moving in his head from every eye but his Maker's; and then, when the deed is ripe, he'll do it. And so half his actions come upon people as a great surprise, because they never get a wink of what was leading up to 'em."
"He's always got his reasons, however," argued Adam.
"He may have, or he may not. And it's all one, anyhow, since he never feels called to give 'em. But in my case there ain't a shadow of reason. He's built up a very wrong and mistaken picture of me. He's watched me in secret, which ain't a manly thing to do, and now, like a thunder planet, he's fallen upon me and given me the sack!"