The shattering of the glass sounded in the silent town like an avalanche. Wales swore under his breath, waited, listened.
There was no sound. He got the window open, and drew Martha in after him into the dim interior of the store.
"Why here?" she whispered, now.
"Anyone who comes searching Castletown for me is bound to come to the Diamond sooner or later," he told her. "It's our best place to watch."
He had another reason. He went forward through the obscurity of the store, through sheaves of axe-handles and rural mail-boxes in piles, with the hardware-store smell of oil and leather and paint strong in his nostrils.
He found a gun-rack. All rifles and pistols were gone but there were still a row of shotguns, the barrels gleaming in the dimness like organ-pipes. In the worn, deep wooden drawers beneath, he found shells.
"I seem to remember you used to go after pheasant with Lee," he said.
Martha nodded, and took one of the pumpguns.
"Just don't use it, until I tell you," he said.
They went on, toward the front of the store. Then they sat down, and through the show-windows they could look out on the Diamond.