Williams shook his head as he thought of his parting with
Henson the previous night.
"I let him out and closed the gate behind him," he said. "He must have
come back for something later on and gone for the dogs. He certainly hit
one of the pups over the head with a stick, and that probably set the
others on to him. Nobody will ever know the rights of the business."
And nobody ever did, for Henson lingered on through the day and far into
the night. At the house Lord Littimer was entertaining a party at dinner.
Everything had been explained; the ring had been produced and generally
admired. All was peace and happiness. They were all on the terrace in the
darkness when Williams came up from the lodge.
"Is there any further news?" Lord Littimer asked.
"Yes, my lord," Williams said, quietly. "Dr. Walker has just come, and
would like to see you at once. Mr. Reginald Henson died ten minutes ago."
A hush came over the hitherto noisy group. It was some little time before
Lord Littimer returned. He had only to confirm the news. Reginald Henson
was dead; he had escaped justice, after all.
"Well, I'm not sorry," Lady Littimer said.
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