Sheppard uttered a piercing scream. For the first time, perhaps, in his life, he repented of his brutality. They will say that it was murder. “I saw him stagger and sink down, and the pistol was smoking still in my hand. An ordinary type, of course—” Mrs. Why in heaven’s name didn’t I think of that before?’ ‘What are you talking of?’ ‘Never mind that now. It is picturesquely situated beneath a tree on the high road, not far from the little hostel before mentioned, and at no great distance from the church. He tore it down just as the Wastrel rose, wavering slightly.
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