“Why,” cried he, “I loaded it myself the other day! I was showing the ladies how it was used, and I know I loaded it before I put it back in its place.”
“Ah,” said Hemming, more dryly than ever, “it’s been used since then, sir. Will you show me the bullets you have by you? I want to compare them with one at the Stroan police station.”
“Why, man, you don’t mean to say you suppose—”
“That you showed it to the ladies to some purpose? I’m afraid I do, sir.”
CHAPTER XVII.
As soon as Nell and her uncle returned to the Blue Lion, they were met by the nurse who was attending Clifford. She said her patient was so anxious to see Miss Claris that she had been obliged reluctantly to give him permission to do so, fearing that he would worry himself into a fever if she refused.
But, much to the nurse’s surprise, Nell was even more reluctant to see him than she herself had been to give her permission to do so. It needed half a dozen earnest messages to persuade her to go to the sick man’s room.
Clifford, who was lying in the little sitting-room, which had been given up to him, gave a long sigh of relief when he saw Nell. She was very pale, and the expression of her face was full of sadness and terror.
“Sit down here, Nell, beside me,” said he in a weak voice, “and tell me why you look like that. I am not going to die. Is that what you are afraid of, dear?”
Nell shook her head, and tried to smile, as she took his hand. A hoarse, rattling sound came from her lips, but no articulate word. Then, meeting his loving eyes, she broke down and burst into a passion of tears. Clifford did just the very best thing possible in the circumstances: he let her cry. Without a word, he sought and found her second hand, placed it with the other in his own left hand, while with his right he gently caressed her golden head. So she cried bitterly for a time, and then less bitterly, until, the pressure of her acute misery relieved, she suddenly sprang back, snatched her hands away, and dried her eyes.