“It seems quite as odd to me, let me tell you.” He laid his hand on the sobbing girl’s shoulder. “Come! You will not help matters by crying. Can’t you tell me what has happened to upset you so?”
The girl made a convulsive effort to choke back her hysterical tears, and managed to utter: “I was so frightened!”
“Yes, that I had realized. What frightened you?”
“There was a man!” gasped the girl. “And I hid, and then another man came, and they began to quarrel, and I dared not move for fear they should hear me, and the big one hit the other, and he fell down and lay still, and the big one took something out of his pocket, and went away, and oh, oh, he passed so close I c-could have touched him only by stretching out my hand! The other man never moved, and I was so frightened I ran, everything went black, and I think I fainted.”
“Ran away?” repeated Pen in disgusted accents. “What a poor-spirited thing to do! Didn’t you go to help the man who was knocked down?”
“Oh no, no, no!” shuddered the girl.
“I must say, I don’t think you deserve to have such an adventure. And if I were you I wouldn’t continue sitting in the middle of the path. It isn’t at all helpful, and it makes you look very silly.”
This severe speech had the effect of angering the girl. She reared up her head, and exclaimed: “How dare you? You are the rudest young man I ever met in my life!”
Sir Richard put his hand under her elbow, and assisted her to her feet. “Ah—accept my apologies on my nephew’s behalf, ma’am!” he said, with only the faintest quiver in his voice. “A sadly ill-conditioned boy! May I suggest to you that you should rest on this bank for a few moments, while I go to investigate the—er—scene of the assault you so graphically described? My nephew—who has, you perceive, provided himself with a stout stick—will charge himself with your safety.”
“I’ll come with you,” said Pen mutinously.