He burst into one of his wild laughs, and she realized that in this mood she could make no impression on him.
He was advancing towards her. She brought her right hand from behind her, and levelled the pistol. “Stand where you are!” she said. “If you come one step nearer I shall shoot you down.”
He stopped short. “Where did you get that thing?” he demanded.
“Out of your coach,” she answered.
“Is it loaded?”
“I don’t know,” said Miss Challoner, incurably truthful.
He began to laugh again, and walked forward. “Shoot then,” he invited, “and we shall know. For I am coming several steps nearer, my lady.”
Miss Challoner saw that he meant it, shut her eyes and resolutely pulled the trigger. There was a deafening report and the Marquis went staggering back. He recovered in a moment. “It was loaded,” he said coolly.
Miss Challoner’s eyes flew open. She saw that Vidal was feeling his left arm above the elbow, and to her dismay she watched a red stain grow upon his sleeve. She dropped the pistol, and her hand went up to her cheek. “Oh, what have I done?” she cried. “Have I hurt you very badly?”
He was laughing again, but quite differently now, as though he were really amused. “You’ve hurt old Plançon’s wall more than you’ve hurt me,” he answered.