She cried as he watched, frozen to the ground. “You pushed the wheel from my hand. Never since I was a girl have I seen your father so moved. ‘I know that, miss. It might be that the boy had taken one drink too many, or someone had given him knock-out drops. “What are you two whispering about?” She turned towards Martin. Long ago. It’s one of their worst traits, one of their very worst. It comforts him when he is most forlorn. “I will put the question,” Drummond said gravely. When I gave him an invitation to supper, I little thought he'd accept it. To-morrow night —or rather to-night, for we are fast verging on another day—I propose to lure him out of the house by a stratagem which I am sure will prove infallible; and, then, what so easy as to knock him on the head.
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