Dickinson’s first remark was characteristic.
“Got the kodak, Symes?”
“Of course. Here it is.”
“Well, I’ll bring it through.”
“No fear. It’ll save time if I do.”
Holding the case high above his head, Symes was through in a minute.
“It’s a case of sharp’s the word if we’re to catch the light,” said Dickinson, and forthwith he proceeded to uncover the ghastly relic. “There,” he went on, having taken half-a-dozen snapshots at every angle, “we’ve got the workings of something of a case.”
“Faugh! Ugly-looking devil, any way you look at him,” pronounced Symes. “A blanked ‘Sheeny’ if ever there was one.”
Characteristically again, then and only then did Dickinson refer to the very narrow escape he had had.
“What made you bring the rifle, Symes?”