"With Von Blitz's compliments, ladies and gentlemen. He is calling on me, by proxy."
"Good God, Chase," cried Browne, "they're trying to murder us. Get back, every one! Inside the doors!"
The women, white-faced and silent for the moment, turned to follow the speaker.
"I'm sorry to bring my troubles to your door," said Chase. "It was meant for me, not for any of you. The man who fired that did not intend to kill me. He was merely giving voice to his pain and regret at seeing me in such bad company." He was smiling calmly and did not take a single step to follow them to safety.
"Come in, Chase! Don't stand out there to be shot at."
"I'll stay here for a few minutes, Mr. Browne, if you don't mind, just to convince you all that the shot was not intended to kill. They're not ready to kill me yet. I'm sure Lord Deppingham will understand. He has been shot at often enough since he came to the island."
"By Jove, I should rather say I have," blurted out Deppingham. "'Pon my word, they had a shot at me every time I tried to pluck a flower at the roadside. I've got so used to it that I resent it when they don't have a try at me."
"Think it was Von Blitz?" asked Browne.
"No. He couldn't hit the château at two hundred yards. It is a native. They shoot like fury." He lighted a cigarette and coolly leaned against the column, his gaze bent on the spot where the smoke had been seen. The others were grouped inside the doors, where they could see without being seen. A certain sense of horror possessed all of the watchers. It was as if they were waiting to see him fall with a bullet in his breast—executed before their eyes. Several minutes passed.
"For heaven's sake, why does he stand there?" cried the Princess at last. "I can endure it no longer. It may be as he says it is, but it is foolhardy to stand there and taunt the pride of that marksman. I can't stay here and wait for it to come. How can—"