"To-morrow, as you might say," snapped Mrs. Merry crossly; "and don't bring that worriting Wasp round here, Mr. Hills. Wasp he is by name and Wasp by nature with his questions. If ever you----"
But Mr. Hill was beyond hearing by this time. He always avoided a chat with Mrs. Merry, as the shrillness of her voice--so he explained--annoyed him. The old woman stared after his retreating figure and she shook her head. "You're a bad one," she soliloquised; "him as is dead was bad too. A pair of ye--ah--but if there's trouble coming, as trouble will come, do what you may--Miss Eva shan't suffer while I can stop any worriting."
Meanwhile Eva and Allen were talking seriously. "My dream was fulfilled in the strangest way, Allen," the girl said. "I dreamed, as I told you, the night before last at nine o'clock----"
"Well?" questioned the young man seeing she hesitated.
Eva looked round fearfully. "The doctor says, that, judging by the condition of the body, my father must have been shot at that hour."
"Last night you mean," said Allen hesitatingly.
"No. This is Friday. He was shot on Wednesday at nine, and the body must have lain all those long hours at the Red Deeps. Of course," added Eva quickly, "no one goes to the Red Deeps. It was the merest chance that those labourers went last night and found the body. So you see, Allen, my father must have been killed at the very time I dreamed of his death."
"It is strange," said young Hill, much perturbed. "I wonder who can have killed him?"
Eva shook her head. "I cannot say, nor can any one. The inspector from Westhaven has been here this morning making inquiries, but, of course, I can tell him nothing--except about the telegram."
"What telegram?"