"Whose grave is this?" he inquired of a man who was standing near it. When her shock and the headache subsided, and she remembered that she had been reading the letter when Gosse had accosted her, she looked for it in vain. “It is in your hands from now on, Shar. She advanced, stabbing at him. “You heard no pistol-shot?” “None. ‘Espéce de diable,’ she screamed. Ennison, if at all,” Anna declared calmly. The trader you spoke about: he disliked your father, didn't he? Well, he probably played your father a horrible practical joke.
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