"As I haven't yet seen anyone stretched dead at my feet, I can't say," replied Hugh. "And what that has got to do with your having black smudges on your face, I fail to grasp.
"Well, that's exactly what I have seen!" said Vicky, trying to wipe away the smudges. "You can be jolly thankful it's only a little eye-shadow gone astray, instead of me being sick in front of you, which, as a matter of fact, is a thing I might quite easily do, from the utterly eccentric feeling I've got in my tummy!"
Hugh stared at her suspiciously. "Look here, are you putting on one of your acts?" he demanded. "If not, what in the devil's name are you talking about?"
"You are an idiot, or you'd see I haven't had time to think up an act! It's caught me absolutely unawares, and I almost wish it hadn't happened, in spite of its probably being a blessing in disguise once we've got used to the idea."
Hugh grasped her by the shoulders, and shook her. "Stop talking in cypher, and pull yourself together! What's happened?"
"Someone's shot Wally right through the chest!" said Vicky. "On the bridge, and Janet shedding the most aprocryphal tears and a. man in a striped shirt exactly like Brighton Rock, and that malignant Harold White telling me to break the news to Ermyntrude!"
"Good God in heaven!" ejaculated Hugh. "Here, I say, don't throw a fit of hysterics for the love of Pete! Is he dead?"
"Oh, he looked totally dead!" shuddered Vicky.
The same thought which Harold White had given utterance to, that Wally had very nearly been shot the day before, slid into Hugh's mind. He did not, however, speak of it, but turned his attention to the present task of soothing Vicky. She showed every sign of nervous collapse, and it was with a feeling of relief that he saw Mary come out of the house towards them.
"Thank the Lord you've come," he said, thrusting Vicky into her arms. "Look after this wretched wench, will you? There seems to have been some kind of an accident. In fact, your cousin's been shot. I'm going to find out what it's all about."