Maybe we'll find him here somewhere." I had not given the man in George Hamon's cave a thought for hours past, but this sudden reminder brought my mind round to him, and me to my feet, with a jerk.
He was my father--I could not doubt it, though belief was horrible.

He was a scoundrel beyond most.

He lay there stricken by my hand.

His life was sought by the law, and would certainly be forfeited if he was found.

I must find George Hamon at once.
"Are they fighting still at Dixcart ?" I asked the Guernsey man.
"There was firing over yonder as we came along," he said, pointing to the south-west.