“All you’ll get from Ger is a bag of moonshine!” said the Viscount roundly. “The plain truth is that his horse was brought down by a cord stretched across his path — and there is the cord, if you doubt me!”
“Oh, my God!” Theo said. “Martin?”
His cousin shrugged. He walked over to the fire, and stood staring down into it, his face hard to read.
“What I’m saying is that it’s time Ger was rid of that lad!” announced the Viscount.
“Theo will not agree with you,” interposed Gervase. “We have spoken of this before today.”
“This had not happened then!” Theo said, slightly raising his head.
“Are you of another mind now?” Gervase asked, watching him.
Theo stood frowning. “No,” he said, at last. “No, I am not of another mind. If Martin did indeed do this — but do you know that? — I am of the opinion that it was done in one of his fits of blind, unreasoning rage. His quarrel with you last night, his sister’s teasing today — oh, I know Martin! He was as mad as a baited bear today, and in that mood he would not pause to consider the consequences of whatever foolish revenge he chose to take on you!”
“This,” said the Viscount, not mincing matters, “is all fudge!”
“You don’t know Martin as I do. But if he had a more dreadful purpose in mind — then I say keep him here, under your eye!”