A violent quarrel then ensued, and such epithets as liar, cheat, and swindler were freely interchanged, and then there was a simultaneous spring at each other, the chairs were overturned and they were rolling upon the floor, dealing each other fierce blows and tearing each other’s hair like wild beasts.  It was the peddler who struck first, but Peter, being the stronger of the two, got his antagonist under him, and with a stick of wood which was lying upon the hearth struck him upon the head, inflicting a fearful wound from which the blood flowed in torrents, staining Peter’s hands and face as he pushed back his hair, and sobered him at once.  But it was too late, for when Hannah, who, during the fight, had cowered in the corner with her hands over her eyes, withdrew them as the struggle ceased, and looked at the white, blood-stained face over which her father was bending, she knew the man was dead, and with a cry of horror, ran from the room out into the darkness, where shriek after shriek of “Murder!  Murder!” rang out upon the air and was drowned by the louder scream of the terrible storm which was sweeping over the hills that Thanksgiving night.

Beside her in the snow crouched the house-dog, Rover, trembling with fear, and mingling his howling cry of terror with her more awful one of murder.  The dog had been a witness of the fray, keeping close by his mistress’ side, and occasionally uttering a low growl of disapproval as the blows fell thick and fast, and when at last it was over, and the dead man lay white and still, with his blood upon the floor, Rover sprang toward his master with a loud, angry bark and then fled with Hannah into the storm, where he mingled his cry with hers and added to the horror of the scene.

“Half-crazed with what he had done, and terrified lest be should be detected, Peter Jerrold’s first idea was of self-preservation from the law, and the cries he had heard outside filled him with rage and fear.  Staggering to his daughter’s side he struck the dog a savage blow, then taking Hannah roughly by the arm and leading her into the house, he said to her, fiercely: 

“Are you crazy, girl, that you yell out your father’s guilt to the world?  You and that brute of a dog, whom I will kill and so have him out of the way!  Here, you Rover, come here!” he said to the dog, who was standing before Hannah, bristling with anger and growling at intervals, “Come here while I finish you,” and he opened the door of the wood-shed where he always kept the gun he had carried in the war of 1812.

Divining his intention Hannah stepped between him and Rover, on whose head she laid her hand protectingly, while she said: 

“Father, you will not touch the dog, if you value your own safety, for if you do, every man in Allington shall know what you have done, before to-morrow dawns.  Isn’t it enough that you have killed him!” and she pointed shudderingly to the inanimate form upon the floor.