‘I must have your shilling,’ he said, doggedly. ‘I can’t give it you, indeed,’ she answered; ‘there’s my rent, and coals, and other things; and I’m very poor. You’d only drink it.’ She had scarcely finished speaking, when she saw the stranger produce a pistol from under his jacket, and point it at her. There was a sudden flash before her eyes, and she felt a keen pain; then she fell down without feeling or consciousness under the hedge-bank on the high road. A few minutes later, Dr. Layard’s brougham was stopping at a toll-gate just outside the town, when a labouring man, who was striding swiftly past, spoke a few words to the driver. Dr. Layard was inside, with Kate, who was going out with him to see her godfather, a clergyman in the next parish. The doctor, having finished what he had to say to the gatekeeper, inquired what the labourer had said in passing. ‘He says there’s a woman up the road, who’s been shot, sir,’ answered the servant, ‘and he says to me, “Look sharp after her, she’s an old woman, and very poor.”’ ‘Shot!’ exclaimed Dr. Layard; ‘drive on then, quickly. Katie, don’t be frightened. Gate, look after that fellow who has just gone through.’ The last order was shouted through the window, as the carriage rolled rapidly away. In a few minutes they gained the spot where the old woman was lying as one dead, under the leafless hedge, with the blood staining the thin shawl which was wrapped about her. Her old wrinkled face had lost all its apple-red, and her grey hair, scanty and short, had fallen down from under her white cap. Both Dr. Layard and Katie exclaimed in one breath, ‘Mrs. Duffy!’ Kate was not wanting in nerve, though she felt a little shaken, and exceedingly troubled. She left the carriage, and sat down on the bank, supporting Mrs. Duffy in her arms, while Dr. Layard made a brief examination of the wounds in the poor old neck and shoulder. His expression was very grave, and he stood for a few moments deliberating silently, with his eyes fastened upon the deathlike face of Mrs. Duffy, and the pretty, anxious face of his daughter. ‘Is it dangerous?’ asked Kate, falteringly. ‘Almost fatal,’ he answered; ‘within a touch of death. There’s one chance. I’m thinking of driving straight to Lentford Hospital. It’s a good level road all the way, and the hospital is at this end of the town. If you get into the brougham first, I can lift the old woman, and place her in an easy posture against you. Could you hold her pretty much as you are now for an hour or more? I’d do it myself; but you could not lift her in as I shall do. Are you strong enough?’ ‘I will be strong enough; I will do it,’ said Kate, lifting up her head with determination and endurance in every line of her face.