She gave a little sigh of relief and waited for him to speak again. "The main volume of the charge just missed him," he went on, after a pause. "Had he been an inch or two farther to the left, the chances are he would never have spoken again." "But you think that he will get better?" "Well, yes. I see no cause for apprehension. His left shoulder and arm are badly speckled, no doubt, but I don't think any vital part has been touched." Dorothy sighed again, and for a moment or two there was silence. Then she said, with evident effort-- "But what about--about--young Penlogan?" "Ah, that I fear is a more serious matter," he answered, with averted eyes. "I sincerely trust that your father is mistaken." "You are not sure that he is?" "It seems as if one can be sure of nothing in this world," he answered slowly and evasively, "and yet I could have trusted Ralph Penlogan with my life." "Does father still persist that it was he?" "He is quite positive, and almost gets angry if one suggests that he may have been mistaken." "Well, doctor, and what will all this lead to?" she questioned, making a strong effort to keep her voice steady. "For the moment I fear it must lead to young Penlogan's arrest. There seems no way of escaping that. Your father's depositions will be taken as soon as Mr. Tregonning arrives. Then, of course, a warrant will be issued, and most likely Penlogan will spend to-night in the police-station--unless----" Then he paused suddenly and looked out of the window. "Unless what, doctor?" "Well, unless he has tried to get away somewhere. It will be dark directly, and under cover of darkness he might get a long distance." "But that would imply that he is guilty?" "Well--yes. I am assuming, of course, that he deliberately shot at your father." "Which I am quite sure he did not do." "I have the same conviction myself, and yet he made no secret of the fact that he hated your father." "But why should he hate my father?" "You surely know----" Then he hesitated. "I know nothing," she answered. "What is the ground of his dislike?" "Ah, here is Mr. Tregonning's carriage," he said, in a tone of relief. "Now I must run away. Keep your heart up, and don't worry any more than you can help." For several moments she walked up and down the room with a restless yet undecided step. Then she made suddenly for the door, and three minutes later she might have been seen hurrying along the drive in the swiftly gathering darkness as fast as her feet could carry her. "I'll see him for myself," she said, with a resolute light in her eyes. "I'll get the truth from his own lips. I'm sure he will not lie to me." It was quite dark when she reached the village, save for the twinkling lights in cottage windows.