‘And then—God forgive me!—mad with rage, I struck her a violent blow on the head, and she fell to the ground.
‘I was sorry arter, and I’d a cut my ‘and off, but what was I to do? She’d ha’ had the whole neighbourhood about our ears in another minute.
‘She lay quite still where she fell, a-moaning and a-groaning, and I kneels down beside her, and I calls her by name, and asks her to get up, and tells her as I didn’t mean to do it, for, so help me God, Marston, that there gal was the only human thing as I ever cared for. She never got up, so I lifted her and carried her up, and put her on the bed upstairs.
‘She lay there day after day, eatin’ a bit now and then, and a-moaning and a-talking out loud about things as had happened years ago, and I see as her brain was gorn queer. I daredn’t leave her a minnit hardly, so I shuts the place for a bit. Birnie come to see her, for I sent a message to him. He told me he’d a come before only he had to see to Ralph Egerton. Then he told me what he’d done, and how it was all square, and nobody need never be the wiser. Gurth Egerton he come to ask after her, and he seemed quite interested in how she was a-goin’ on and asked me what she talked about, and all manner o’ rum questions.
‘Well, she lied like that for a couple o’ months, and Birnie told me as she was quite out of her mind, and certainly she did talk that wild it was enough to give you the shivers to hear her.
‘“Is there any cause for this here?” I sez to Birnie, for I didn’t think as the crack on the head could have done it.
‘“Yes,” he says; “she’s evidently been in great trouble, and that little affair in the back room settled her outright,” and then he tells me something as regular takes my breath away.
‘I didn’t believe it at first, but I found he was right arter all; for one night I had to send for him in a hurry, and the next morning my poor girl was dead, and that young un as you see in the room jest now was a-crying by the side of her.’
‘And you mean to say you have no idea who Gertie’s father was?’
‘Not the ghost o’ one. She raved about everything except that. The murder was the principal thing she stuck to. “They’re murdering Ralph!” she’d cry out; “Save yourself, Ralph!” but never a word about a sweetheart, and she died without telling us; and from that day to this I’ve never found out who it was as ruined my poor gal like a villain.’