"I thought you were going to shoot him, or shoot at him, or something
like that. Can't you get him in range?"
"Oh, I wasn't really in earnest about that, Barminster. You know we
couldn't shoot at a fellow for such a thing--"
"Nonsense, Cecil," said his wife. "You shoot poachers in England."
"But this fellow isn't a poacher. He's a--a gentleman, I daresay--in
some respects--not all, of course, my dear, but--"
"Gentleman? Ridiculous!" scoffed his wife.
"I--yes, quite right--a ridiculous gentleman, of course. Ha, ha! Isn't
he, Barminster? But with all that, you know, I couldn't have Tompkins
shoot him. He asked me the other day if he should take a shot at
Shaw's legs, and I told him not to do anything so absurd." Penelope's
heart swelled with relief, and for the first time that evening she
looked upon her brother with something like sisterly regard.
"It didn't matter, however," said Lady Evelyn sharply, "I gave him
instructions yesterday to shoot any trespasser from that side of the
line. I can't see that we owe Mr. Shaw any especial consideration. He
has insulted end ignored me at every opportunity. Why should he be
permitted to trespass more than any other common lawbreaker? If he
courts a charge of birdshot he should not expect to escape scot free.
Birdshot wouldn't kill a man, you know, but it would--"
But Penelope could restrain herself no longer. The heartlessness of
her sister-in-law overcame her prudence, and she interrupted the
scornful mistress of the house, her eyes blazing, but her voice under
perfect control.
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