“Yes, sir. Master Frank and Master Ernest——”
“Master Frank could not see much at the moment, eh?”
Martin blushed.
“But Ernest—surely, he might have noted something that you missed?”
“I think not, sir. He was—er—looking after his brother.”
“And the other children?”
“Several boys and girls of the village, but they were frightened by the screaming, sir, and ran away.”
“Including the young lady who caused the combat?”
No answer. Martin thought it best to leave the point open. Again Mr. Beckett-Smythe laughed.
“I suppose this village belle is one of Mrs. Atkinson’s daughters. Gad! I never heard tell of such a thing. All right, Martin, you can go now, but let me give you a parting word of advice. Never again fight for a woman, unless to protect her from a blackguard, which, I presume, was hardly the cause of the dispute with Frank.”