"Jenny!" I answered weakly. "Yes, you would shoot my daddy," she continued relentlessly, "you would shoot him: and he loves you." What was I to say? I advanced towards her, but she stepped back, and said fiercely, "I hate you!" I stood still, my mind in a maze. It seemed so utterly unreasonable. Surely she knew I had been in danger of my life? I began to stammer something to that effect, but she stamped her foot and cried, "I hate you, I hate you!" "Then I shall shoot myself," I answered, holding the pistol at my heart. She watched me without a word, and at last as I still delayed said, "Well, when?" I think I was as near death at that moment as I have ever been, for a sudden rage welled up in my heart, a rage of self-pity at Jenny's unreasonable reproach, and my finger had tightened on the trigger; but whether I really heard it, or whether it was an idle illusion, I can't say, but from far away I thought I heard the faintest echo of a whistle, and I recognized a few notes of a sailor's chantey such as my father had used to sing. The pistol dropped to my side, and I stood listening. I hardly heard Jenny saying, "You see, you daren't." For the moment my mind was elsewhere; but the sound had gone. I turned again to Jenny. "Good-bye," I said, and made towards the door. "Tommy," she cried after me in her imperious way, "where are you going?" "Away," I answered. "Where?" "A long way away. I shall never see you again." "Tommy!" I was at the door, and had no intention of turning back, but the sudden change of tone from anger to tearful appeal swung me round against my will, and before I knew what I was doing I was at her side. "What?" I asked. "Are you going to leave me, Tommy?" she said; and her voice was gentle enough now. I realized I had been fooled, and answered shortly; "Yes." "Why?" "Because you hate me." I couldn't resist the retort. "I don't hate you," she declared. "You said you did," I threw back, not meaning to be easily appeased, and itching, moreover, to be away after that summoning whistle. "Only if you hate daddy," she said. "He...." I began in self-justification; but she wouldn't listen. "He loves you," she cut in. "And it's only the bad man who makes him like that." Then she seemed fired by a sudden inspiration. "Tommy," she cried, "you find the bad man." "Then I'll kill him," I declared easily. "Promise?" she said, gazing up eagerly into my eyes.