"Ho, Lor lumme, lady, it fair wrung my old 'eart to 'ave to tell ye, but, 'aving to tell ye (Joe couldn't) I told ye almighty quick to get it over--sharp an' quick's my motter. Fate's crool 'ard when Fate takes the gloves off, miss, an' I know as Fate's been an' took ye one in the wind wot's fair doubled you up--but take time, miss, take time--throw back your pretty 'ead, breathe deep an' reg'lar, an' you'll soon be strong enough to go another round. If I'd got a towel handy I'd fan ye a bit--not 'avin' none, no matter. Fate's 'ard on you, so fair an' young, miss, but Fate's been 'arder on the Guv--ketched the pore young Guv a fair spiflicator--" "Oh, please--please," cried Hermione, reaching out appealing hands, "oh, tell me, is he hurt--sick--dying? Oh, quick, quick--tell me!" "Lady, ma'am--my pretty dear," said the Old Un, taking those pleading hands to pat them tenderly, "that's what I'm tryin' to do. The Guv ain't dead yet--no, not--yet--" "You mean he's dying?" "My dear," said the old man, blinking at her through sudden tears, "that's what the doctors say." Here he loosed one hand to rub at each bright eye with a bony knuckle. "An' 'im so young--so game an' strong--three days ago." "How--did it--happen?" she questioned, her voice low and steady. "It was Fate!" said the old man, taking her hand again. "Three days ago Fate (the perisher) sends him a telegram--two on 'em--tellin' 'im to meet you in a wood an' signed with--with your name, both on 'em--" At this she cried out and would have risen, but his kindly clasp checked her. "I--sent no telegram!" she whispered. "Me an' Joe an' the Spider know that now, miss. But anyway, to this 'ere wood the Guv do 'aste away, an' in this wood Fate's a-layin' for 'im wir a gun, an' down goes the pore Guv wi' a perishin' bullet in 'is gizzard. An' there Joe finds 'im, an' 'ome Joe brings 'im in the car, an' Joe an' me an' the Spider 'ushes things up. An' now in bed lays the Guv with nurses an' doctors 'anging over 'im--a-callin' for you--I mean the Guv, d' ye see? So now for you I've come. I've brought Joe an' the car for you--Joe's across wi' Mrs. Trapes, an' the car's below--both waitin'. So you'll come t' th' pore young Guv, miss, won't ye, lady?" "Have you--any idea--who--did it?" she questioned, speaking as with an effort. "We got our suspicions, ho, yus!" the Old Un nodded. "Joe's got a wonnerful gift o' suspicion--oh, a rare 'ead 'as my lad Joe. Joe an' the Spider's on the track, an' they're goin' to track Fate to doom, ma'am--to perishin' doom! Y' see," here the old man leaned suddenly nearer, "y' see, Joe's found a cloo!" "A clew! Yes--yes!" she whispered breathlessly, moistening lips suddenly dry, and conscious that Spike's lax form had stiffened to painful alertness.