"Oh, I don't know! I feel very strange. I keep praying that I may live to get home and give evidence before the proper authorities. It seems very strange that I should come to my end this way." "But you may recover, sir," the stable boy interposed. "There's never no knowing what may happen in this world." "Please don't talk to me," he said petulantly. "You are wasting time while you talk. I want to compose my mind. It's an awfully solemn thing to be murdered, but he shall swing for it as sure as I'm living at this moment! Don't you think you can hurry a little faster?" Sir John had considerably recovered by the time they reached the house, and was able to walk upstairs and even to undress with assistance. While waiting for the doctor, Dorothy came and sat by his side. She was very pale, but quite composed. Hers was one of those natures that seemed to gather strength in proportion to the demands made upon it. She never fainted or lost her wits or became hysterical. She met the need of the moment with a courage that rarely failed her. "Ah, Dorothy," he said, in impressive tones, "I never thought I should come to this, and at the hands of a dastardly assassin." "But are you sure it was not an accident, father?" she questioned gently. "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. Dorothy raised a pair of appealing eyes to the doctor's face, and then stole sadly down to the drawing-room to await the verdict.