The men exchanged glances.
“I suppose you’ll have the police over before long, and—What’s the matter?”
The men were looking sharply down the road.
“I mean they’ll want to question him about the scoundrels who did this work.”
“It warn’t no scoundrels, did it, doctor,” said Caleb Kent, with a vicious snarl.
“But I took it that the keeper had been shot by poachers.”
“It were Cap’n Rolph shot him,” said Caleb, fiercely.
“Dear me! What a sad accident.”
“Accident?” cried Caleb Kent, with an ugly laugh. “Why, I see him lift his gun and take aim. It was just as I was going to hit at him.”
“Nonsense, my lad: his own master.”