She drew herself up, her fingers caught away the night-dress at her throat; she stared hard at him for a moment, and then, with a wild, moaning voice, cried out: "You killed my boy! You killed my boy! You killed my boy!" Gaston was about to take her hand, when he heard a shuffle and a rush behind him.

He rose, turned swiftly, saw a bottle swinging, threw up his hand...

and fell backwards against the bed.
The woman caught his bleeding head to her breast and hugged it.
"My Jock, my poor boy!" she cried in delirium now.

Cawley had thrown his arms about the struggling, drunken assailant--Jock's poaching friend.
The mother now called out to the pinioned man, as she had done to Gaston: "You have killed my boy!" She kissed Gaston's bloody face.
A messenger was soon on the way to Ridley Court, and in a little upper room Jacques was caring for his master..