“We must get him out of that room,” said Nora.
“Him? You mean your father?”
“Yes; he will never recover there. I have been thinking and thinking, and I'll have my plan ready by the morning; only you must help me. I'll get Hannah Croneen to come in, and we'll do it between us if you can help me.”
“But what is it?” said Molly.
“I'll tell you in the morning; you wait and see.”
CHAPTER XXX. — THE LION IN HIS CAGE.
The Squire was better, and not better. He had received a very nasty flesh-wound in the thigh; but the bullet had been extracted. There was not the slightest clew to the identity of his would-be murderer. The Squire himself had said nothing. He had been found almost bleeding to death by the roadside; the alarm had been given, and in terror and consternation his own tenants had brought him home.
The Squire could have said a good deal, but he said nothing. The police came and asked him questions, but he kept his lips closed.