My father removed his hand from the reins and looped them through his arm.
"Indeed?" he said. "He came in heels first, I trust?"
"No," I said, "he is alive and well."
"The devil!" said my father, and sighed. "I am growing old, my son. I know my horse spoiled my aim, and yet he fell, and I rode over him. I had hoped to be finished with your Uncle Jason. You say he entered the house?"
"And told me to stop," I said.
"And you did not?"
"No," I replied. "I succeeded in getting out of a window also."
And then, although I could not see him, I knew he had undergone a change, and I knew that I was facing a different man.
His hand fell on my shoulder, and to my surprise, it was trembling.
"God!" he cried, in a voice that was suddenly harsh and forbidding. "Do you mean to tell me you left Mademoiselle, and never struck a blow? You left her there?"