“She was a good girl, after all,” said Bridger. “In her heart she was as good as your wife, Squire.”
“Where’s the child?” asked Grace, almost in a whisper,
He turned upon her savagely.
“D’you want that, too? Aren’t you satisfied yet? Has the child got to go, too, before we stay?”
“No, no!” she cried hastily. “You must keep the child, and we’ll do all we can to help you.”
Paul looked at the man.
“Won’t you shake hands with me, Bridger? I should like you to tell me you forgive me.”
Bridger drew back his hands and shook his head. Paul saw that no good could come of staying, and turned to the door. The gamekeeper’s eye, following him, caught sight of his gun, which leaned against a chair; he stretched out hand and took it. Grace gave a start, but managed to repress her cry of alarm.
“Squire!” he called.
“Well?”