"Accident?" he said, and his eyes blazed with anger. "Has it come to this, that you would screen the man who has murdered your father?"
"Let us not use such a word until we are compelled," she replied, in the same gentle tones. "You may not be hurt as much as you fear."
"Whether I am hurt much or little," he said, "the intention was there. If I am not dead, the fault is not his."
"But are you sure it was he who fired at you?"
"As sure as I can be of anything in this world. Besides, who else would do it? He threatened me the day his father died."
"Threatened to murder you?"
"Not in so many words, but he had murder in his eyes."
"But why should he want to do you any harm? You never did any harm to him."
For a moment or two Sir John hesitated. Should he clench his argument by supplying the motive? He would never have a better opportunity for destroying at a single blow any romantic attachment that she may have cherished. Destroy her faith in Ralph Penlogan—the handsome youth with pleasant manners—and her heart might turn again to Lord Probus.
But while he hesitated the door opened, and Dr. Barrow came hurriedly into the room, followed by a nurse.