“If the man’s a murderer, you’re just trying to find excuses for him,” she said dryly.
“Not excuses,” said Dr. Maclean sharply, “but a reason for his mad and wicked act—yes.”
“And now,” said his wife slowly, “which of us is to tell the child, and what will be the best way to break it to her?”
“I think,” said the doctor hesitatingly, “that you had better tell her, my dear.”
“Perhaps I had, for she’s a bit afraid of me, and she hasn’t a shadow of fear of you!”
But they might have saved themselves the trouble of their painful little discussion, for, when they went into the kitchen, they found that Jean had left the house without saying where she was going.
“I think she saw by my face that there was trouble afoot,” admitted Elsie regretfully, for she just looked at me and said, “You can tell them I’ve gone up to the village.”
“I hope she hasn’t gone to the Thatched House,” said Mrs. Maclean in a dismayed tone.
“That is just where I feel certain she has gone,” said the cook positively. “It’s all over the village, Mrs. Maclean, that they will be arresting Mr. Garlett this morning. But the poor wean don’t know that.”
Driven by some instinct which she would have shrunk from analysing, Jean Bower was hurrying toward the Thatched House.