“Again, thank you. I knew you wouldn’t fail me. Now, a little business. Doctor, you watch my time.” The doctor nodded.
“Where’s Pelham? Ah, Colonel, I am going to ask you to take charge. It is an infernal nuisance, but——”
“A pleasure! Eh—confound it! I mean, I shall willingly do all I can,” replied the Colonel hurriedly.
“First of all, Gaspard, before anything else, tell me how this happened. This is necessary,” said the doctor.
“Surely, surely, take it down—Paul and I riding home from church found my wife struggling in the grip of that devil Sleeman—she defending herself with her hunting knife—seeing them I sprang for gun, hanging on the wall—the beast made a break for the door—my wife threw herself on me, catching my gun hand—in the struggle the gun went off—the gun fell on the floor—Paul grabbed it and very nearly did what I would have done. He’s a little better shot than I—glad he didn’t get him. That’s all. Paul saw everything. Paul! Listen! There must be no more of this—remember!”
Paul started from the bedside where he had been kneeling and stood tense and rigid.
“What, Daddy?” he said. “You know, Daddy, I must kill him. He deserves to be killed. It is right, Daddy.” The boy spoke quietly with the steady voice of a man set upon a simple and irrevocable duty. His father’s eyes rested with loving pride on his boy’s face for a moment or two.
“Good boy!” he said, laying his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Good boy! And you will be a good man—a better man than your father.”
“Daddy! Don’t, Daddy!” The boy’s voice broke in a cry of pain. The Colonel’s head went down on the bed.
“Steady, every one!” said the doctor in a strong, clear voice. “Don’t waste his strength.” It was the word needed for the moment.