"Tell me now, Maureen," I said, "since you have told me so much. It was
Sir Jasper Tuite, was it not, that waylaid Miss Cardew on her way from
Kilmany Church, and was killed in the struggle? And what had Uncle Luke
to do with it?"

"Ah, that is what only he himself could tell. For the poor young lady,
who was never over-strong, went clean out of her wits afterwards: and to
be sure Sir Jasper Tuite was dead and cold when they found him. The
horses that drew the carriage had taken flight and galloped off home
with Miss Cardew, and her cowardly coachman had run away and never came
back till the whole thing was over. Miss Cardew, poor thing, never could
tell what happened, rightly. And Sir Jasper, if he _was_ dead, he hadn't
died of the pistol-shot, but of an old trouble of the heart. The bullet
was in the fleshy part of his shoulder, and the doctors would have got
it out as easy as possible. And, sure, if he'd lived he'd have been sent
to prison. It used to be life for runnin' away with a lady against her
will in the old days. Master Luke's pistol was found just as he'd thrown
it down, and his name on it. He must have thought he'd killed Sir
Jasper. Small wrong, some people say, if he had, for Sir Jasper was bad
as many a poor girl knew to her cost."

"Uncle Luke should not have gone away," I said.

"Well, you see, dearie, he thought it the kindest thing to do. And
then--there were stories. I never believed them myself. People asked how
it was that Master Luke came to be armed. There was reason enough, for
the country was disturbed at the time."