Nevertheless he strode toward the boy hastily and caught him by the arm.
"What aileth thee; speak!" he ordered him.
"Jack. Jack is—Jack——" Francis stammered.
"Oh, is it Jack?" cried Stephen Hopkins, relieved, though he could have struck himself a moment later for the seeming heartlessness of his excusable mistake.
"What has Jack done now? He is always getting into mischief, but I am sure you need have no fear for him. But now that I look at you——. Why, my poor lad, what is it? No harm hath befallen your brother?"
"Jack is dead," said Francis.
Constance uttered a cry, and her father fell back a step or two, shocked and sorry.
"Forgive me, Francis; I had no notion of this. I never thought John Billington, the younger, could come to actual harm—so daring, so reckless, but so strong and able to take care of himself! Dead! Francis, it can't be. You are mistaken. Where is Doctor Fuller?"
"With my father," said Francis, and they saw that he shook from head to foot.
"He was with Jack; he did what he could. He couldn't do more," said Francis.