The news of the murder had reached him from Mr.Boyce.The master of Mellor had heard the news from William, the man-servant, at half-past seven, and had instantly knocked up his guest, by way of sharing the excitement with which his own feeble frame was throbbing.
"By Gad! I never heard such an _atrocious_ business," said the invalid, his thin hand shaking against his dressing-gown.

"That's what your Radical notions bring us to! We shall have them plundering and burning the country houses next." "I don't think my Radical notions have much to do with it," said Wharton, composedly.
But there was a red spot in his cheeks which belied his manner.

So when he--_they_--saw Hurd cross the avenue he was on his way to this deed of blood.

The shot that he, Wharton, had heard had been the shot which slew Westall?
Probably.

Well, what was the bearing of it?
Could she keep her own counsel or would they find themselves in the witness box?
The idea quickened his pulse amazingly.
"Any clue?
Any arrests ?" he asked of his host.