" 'E can't get away, I tell the'!" insisted Inspector Murch, who was nearly unintelligible from wrath and uncertainty. He shook his fist. "We know! He's going to The Grange, every time! We know it — we — aaah!" He panted for a moment. "You two see if the' can do anything for them that was shot, down there. Ill go to the big 'ouse. That's where our man is, and we know it."
"Do you think you hit him?" Hugh asked, as calmly as he could. "When you fired through the window, I mean? If you did—"
"Ah! I was off me head for a moment, d'ye see." Murch looked blankly at the weapon in his hand. "I don't know. Twas so sudden; I don't know. Stand guard, now. There's an other one that was shot at— where's he? Who was 'e?"
"Damned if I know," said Morgan. He added bitterly: "We're a fine parcel of men of action. This is one to remember for the book. All right, inspector; cut along. Well look for your missing body. Though, personally, I'd rather take castor oil."
He hunched his shoulders and shivered as he went down the lawn. Hugh could still hear the stupefying crash of the shooting; and the emotional let-down was fully as stupefying. He accepted one of his companion's cigarettes, but his hand was not steady.
"Is this real?'' Morgan demanded in an odd voice.
"Hell-raising — gunplay — all over in a second; feel like a wet rag… No, no. Something's wrong. I don't believe it."
"It's real enough," said Hugh. He forced himself to go close to Spinelli's body. All around there was a smell of sickness and the warm odor of blood. As Morgan struck a match, the glimmer shone on bloodstains in the brush round the oak tree, where the second man had tried to crawl for safety. Hugh added: "I don't suppose there's any doubt…?"
Spinelli lay on his face. Morgan, who was looking white, bent over and held the match near his head. It burned his fingers, and he jumped up again.
"Dead. No doubt. They — they got him through the back of the head, just over the hair line. Euh… I imagine," he said blankly, "that's rather like what a battle must be, that business. I can't tell just yet what did happen." He shivered. "I don't mind admitting that if anybody leaned out and said. 'Boo!' to me at this minute, I'd jump out of my skin. But, look here… H'm. One thing about it, that little marksman in the window was out to get Spinelli and the other chap; deliberately knock over those two, and nobody else. He didn't take a shot at either one of us, though he must have seen us easily."