“Morning, Mr Robson,” he cried. “I thought it was Mr Reed. Good heavens, man, what’s wrong?”
“I hardly know, sir,” said the young man hastily. “Two of our men coming to work this morning found him in a cleft, bruised and bleeding from a cut on the head.”
“A fall?” cried the Major.
“No, sir. Been set upon and half murdered, I’m afraid. Ah, Miss Gurdon! I’m very sorry, I didn’t know you were there.”
For Dinah had just made her appearance at the window, having heard every word.
Chapter Thirty Five.
With their own Petard.
“Go on,” cried the Major excitedly; “she must hear it now. Hold up, my child, only an accident—a slip: trying to make some short cut in the dark. Now, then,” he continued, with military promptitude, “when did they find him?”