art to 'ave to tell ye,
but, 'aving to tell ye (Joe couldn't) I told ye almighty quick to get it
over--sharp an' quick's my motter. Fate's crool 'ard when Fate takes the
gloves off, miss, an' I know as Fate's been an' took ye one in the wind
wot's fair doubled you up--but take time, miss, take time--throw back
your pretty 'ead, breathe deep an' reg'lar, an' you'll soon be strong
enough to go another round. If I'd got a towel handy I'd fan ye a
bit--not 'avin' none, no matter. Fate's 'ard on you, so fair an' young,
miss, but Fate's been 'arder on the Guv--ketched the pore young Guv a
fair spiflicator--"

"Oh, please--please," cried Hermione, reaching out appealing hands, "oh,
tell me, is he hurt--sick--dying? Oh, quick, quick--tell me!"

"Lady, ma'am--my pretty dear," said the Old Un, taking those pleading
hands to pat them tenderly, "that's what I'm tryin' to do. The Guv
ain't dead yet--no, not--yet--"

"You mean he's dying?"

"My dear," said the old man, blinking at her through sudden tears,
"that's what the doctors say." Here he loosed one hand to rub at each
bright eye with a bony knuckle. "An' 'im so young--so game an'
strong--three days ago."

"How--did it--happen?" she questioned, her voice low and steady.

"It was Fate!" said the old man, taking her hand again. "Three days ago
Fate (the perisher) sends him a telegram--two on 'em--tellin' 'im to
meet you in a wood an' signed with--with your name, both on 'em--"

At this she cried out and would have risen, but his kindly clasp checked
her.

"I--sent no telegram!" she whispered.

"Me an' Joe an' the Spider know that now, miss. But anyway, to this 'ere
wood the Guv do 'aste away, an' in this wood Fate's a-layin' for 'im
wir a gun, an' down goes the pore Guv wi' a perishin' bullet in 'is
gizzard. An' there Joe finds 'im, an' 'ome Joe brings 'im in the car,
an' Joe an' me an' the Spider 'ushes things up. An' now in bed lays the
Guv with nurses an' doctors 'anging over 'im--a-callin' for you--I mean
the Guv, d' ye see? So now for you I've come. I've brought Joe an' the
car for you--Joe's across wi' Mrs. Trapes, an' the car's below--both
waitin'. So you'll come t' th' pore young Guv, miss, won't ye, lady?"

"Have you--any idea--who--did it?" she questioned, speaking as with an
effort.

"We got our suspicions, ho, yus!" the Old Un nodded. "Joe's got a
wonnerful gift o' suspicion--oh, a rare 'ead 'as my lad Joe. Joe an'
the Spider's on the track, an' they're