A wounded opponent would have been a demned difficulty.
Having put on his coat, and replaced his case of weapons, he approached the figure which lay, half hidden, amongst the dense undergrowth.
He would make certain of his work.
Faugh!
In haste he withdrew a searching hand. It was dripping with blood.
The contact was distasteful. It even went so far as to shake his nerves.
Wiping the red stains again and again on the grass, he rose to his feet.
He would wash his hand in the stream they had passed on their way, and then no time must be lost in returning to the Manor and seeking Sir Stephen.
It must not be suspected that he had ever left the card-table that morning.
Steenie would be too fuddled to contradict if questions were asked.