Violet promised, and she passed on, setting the clock upon the stump and immediately drawing back to a suitable distance at the right, where she stood, wrapped in her long dark cloak. Her face shone ghastly white, even in its environment of snow-covered boughs, and noting this, Violet wished the minutes fewer between the present moment and the hour of five, at which time he was to draw the trigger.
“Dr. Zabriskie,” quoth the inspector, “we have endeavoured to make this trial a perfectly fair one. You are to have a shot at a small clock which has been placed within a suitable distance, and which you are expected to hit, guided only by the sound which it will make in striking the hour of five. Are you satisfied with the arrangement?”
“Perfectly. Where is my wife?”
“On the other side of the field some ten paces from the stump upon which the clock is fixed.” He bowed, and his face showed satisfaction.
“May I expect the clock to strike soon?”
“In less than five minutes,” was the answer.
“Then let me have the pistol; I wish to become acquainted with its size and weight.”
We glanced at each other, then across at her.
She made a gesture; it was one of acquiescence.
Immediately the inspector placed the weapon in the blind man’s hand. It was at once apparent that he understood the instrument, and Violet’s hopes which had been strong up to this moment, sank at his air of confidence.