"He is terribly prostrate," the doctor reported when Mark joined him.
"I don't think that he will get over it. He is scarcely conscious
now. You see, he is an old man, and has no reserve of strength to
fall back upon. Your father has been such a good friend to him that
it is not surprising the news should have been too much for him.
I examined him at the Squire's request some months ago as to his
heart's action, which was so weak that I told the Squire then that
he might go off at any time, and I rather wonder that he recovered
even temporarily from the shock."

In a few minutes Sir Charles Harris drove up.

"This is terrible news, my dear Mark," he said, as he leaped from
his gig and wrung Mark's hand--"terrible. I don't know when I
have had such a shock; he was a noble fellow in all respects, a warm
friend, an excellent magistrate, a kind landlord, good all round.
I can scarcely believe it yet. A burglar, of course. I suppose
he entered the house for the purpose of robbery, when your father
awoke and jumped out of bed, there was a tussle, and the scoundrel
killed him; at least, that is what I gather from the story that
the groom told me."

"That is near it, Sir Charles, but I firmly believe that robbery
was not the object, but murder; for murder was attempted yesterday
evening," and he informed the magistrate of the shot fired through
the window.

"Bless me, you don't say so!" the magistrate exclaimed. "That alters
the case altogether, and certainly would seem to make the act one
of premeditated murder; and yet, surely, the Squire could not have