“There’s something in my mind connected with that day,” he said, “and I can’t remember what it is. I had been playing golf, and I punctured, and walked back along the ridge instead of wheeling my bicycle along the road. Something funny: I remember laughing. Vi, darling, can’t you remember? Or didn’t I tell you?”
Violet saw that even in the red glow of the candle-shades Raymond’s face had turned white. There was red light upon it, but not of it.
“You certainly did not tell me,” she said in sheer pity. “I remember the day, too. There was a man who had escaped from the asylum and stolen a gun from the keeper’s....”
“Yes, that’s right,” said Colin. “I believe that’s on the track. A man with a gun.”
Philip laughed.
“One of the most amusing things I ever heard, Colin,” he said. “I am surprised at Violet’s forgetting it. Is that all?”
Colin turned to his grandmother. “Granny, they’re all laughing at me because I can’t remember. Father’s laughing at me, so is Violet. You and Raymond are the only kind ones. Man with a gun, Raymond shooting pigeons. That makes two men with a gun. Then there was me.”
“The very best story, Colin. Most humorous,” said his father.
Colin sighed. “Sometimes I think of things just as I’m going to sleep,” he said. “If I think of it to-night, I shall wake Violet and tell her, and then she’ll remember it if I can’t. Man with a gun....”
“Oh, Colin, stop it,” said Violet.