The elder Mr Fakenham bowed his head portentously. “You know what happened to Tallerton, Gil?”
“He had an accident when he was out shooting,” replied Mr Ringwood slowly.
“Blew his brains out,” said Marmaduke.
“Perfectly true,” corroborated Ferdy. “All to pieces, he was. Hushed it up, of course, but there it is. Plain as a pikestaff. Duke had it from Nat Tallerton. The thing is, can’t have Sherry doing the same. Dash it, cousin of ours! Besides — Sherry, y’know!”
“Sherry wouldn’t!” Mr Ringwood said positively.
“No, because Revesby’s claws ain’t firm enough in him yet,” said Marmaduke.
Mr Ringwood sat up. “What are we going to do?” he demanded.
“Can’t do anything,” replied Marmaduke. “If you don’t know Sherry, I do. Never would listen to reason, and the only time I tried to use my influence on him he went straight off and did the very thing we didn’t want him to do.”
“That’s Sherry all over,” agreed Ferdy. “Obstinate! Like it from a child. No managing him at all.”
“Lady Sheringham might contrive to cheek him,” suggested Marmaduke.