Vicky made no movement to retreat, but regarded Janet with bright-eyed interest. "Why? Have you got small-pox or something?" she inquired.
"Blast the girl!" said White under his breath. "Well, she's got to know sooner or later, and at least she isn't his daughter. Look here, Vicky, you run along up to the house, and tell your mother that Wally's met with an accident!"
"Oh no, has he? What kind of an accident?"
"Oh Vicky, I don't know how to tell you! We're afraid he's dead!" said Janet.
"Dead?" gasped Vicky. She looked from Janet's swollen face towards White, and then pushed Janet unceremoniously aside, and saw Wally lying in the middle of the bridge with Mr. Jones's coat under his head, and a red stain on his shirt. She did not faint, and since she had decided after her lunch that she was tired of the Tennis Girl, and had reverted to one of the Younger Set, and had made up her face accordingly, she did not change colour either. Instead, she clutched at the top of the gate, and said, "Oh gosh!" in rather a breathless voice. "Someone's shot him! I heard it, too!"
"You heard it? Did you see anyone?" asked White sharply.
"Oh no, I thought it was someone potting rabbits."
"Who, for instance? Got any idea who might have taken a gun out?"
Vicky shook her head. "No, "course not. I mean, I can't imagine, because everyone's out, now I come to think of it. Oh, I say, have I got to tell Ermyntrude? I haven't ever broken news to anyone, and I quite definitely don't want to.
"It's your place to do it," said White. "Better go and get it over. There's nothing for you to do here. Janet, go up to the house, and bring Hinchcliffe down here: I thought I heard a car just now."