“They are good for something, then,” said the hostess.
“Don’t,” said Mouse, conscious that she must account for the emotion she had shown. “Please don’t, Pussie. He was a rough, common, ridiculous man, but he was very kind in his way, really kind, to poor Cocky and to me.”
“Oh, my dear, what a liar you are!” thought her friend.
“Are you sure he is dead?” Mouse asked of the young member again. “He might be only wounded, and not dead, you know.”
“Dead as a door-nail,” answered the youthful legislator, resenting the doubt thrown on his news. “He was shot through the heart from behind. He died before they could carry him into the house.”
Mouse drew a deep sigh of contentment which sounded like one of regret.
“Who did it?”
“They don’t know. Nobody saw how it was done.”
“He must have had numbers of enemies.”
“Oh, no doubt.”