Part 17 (1/2)

”You're sure,” he said, ”to have heard a garbled account of what happened, before you get this letter. I want to tell you the _facts_ before I take further action.”

The word ”facts” was underlined shakily. I had, of course, heard no account of anything which had happened. I handed the letter to Marion.

”Do you know what this means?” I asked.

Marion read it.

”Rose told me this morning,” she said, ”that there had been some kind of a row last night. She said G.o.dfrey was killed.”

”That isn't true at all events,” I said. ”He's still alive.”

”Of course I didn't believe her,” said Marion.

”But I think you ought to have told me at breakfast,” I said. ”I hate having these things sprung on me suddenly. At my time of life even good news ought to be broken to me gradually. Any sudden shock is bad for the heart.”

”I thought there might be no truth in the story at all,” said Marion, ”and you know, father, that you don't like being worried.”

I don't. But I am worried a great deal.

”I suppose,” I said, ”that I'd better go down and see him. He says he's in great pain, so he's not likely to be agreeable; but still I'd better go.”

”Do,” said Marion; ”and, of course, if there's anything I can do, anything I can send down to him--”

”I don't expect he's as bad as all that,” I said. ”Men like G.o.dfrey are never seriously hurt. But if he expresses a wish for chicken jelly I'll let you know at once.”

I started at once. I met Bob Power just outside my own gate. He was evidently a little embarra.s.sed, but he spoke to me with the greatest frankness.

”I'm extremely sorry, Lord Kilmore,” he said, ”but I am afraid I hurt your nephew last night.”

”Badly?”

”Not very,” said Bob. ”Collar bone and a couple of ribs. I saw the doctor this morning.”

”Broken?”

”Yes. It wasn't altogether my fault. I mean to say--”

”I'm sure it was altogether G.o.dfrey's,” I said. ”The thing which surprises me is that n.o.body ever did it before. G.o.dfrey is nearly thirty, so for twenty years at least every man he has met must have been tempted to break his ribs. We must, in spite of what everybody says, be a Christian nation. If we were not--”

”He would keep following me about,” said Bob. ”I told him several times to clear away and go home. But he wouldn't.”

”He has a fixed idea that you're engaged in smuggling.”

”Even if I was,” said Bob, ”it would be no business of his.”

”That's just why he mixes himself up in it. If it had been his business he wouldn't have touched it. There's nothing G.o.dfrey hates more than doing anything he ought to do.”

”I'm awfully glad you take it that way,” said Bob. ”I was afraid--”

”My dear fellow,” I said, ”I'm delighted. But you haven't told me yet exactly how it happened.”