White gave a wry grin. "As a matter of fact, I asked her what the devil was the matter. She gasped out something about Carter's being shot, and I naturally hurried up to see. Both she and Mr. Jones were gaping - staring, down here. I told them both to pull themselves together, and ran down on to the bridge."
"Just a moment, sir. I take it Mr. Carter wasn't lying the way he is now?"
"No, of course he wasn't. I raised him in my arms, to see where he was hurt, and afterwards gave him to Mr. Jones to support, while I dashed to the telephone. I suppose Mr. Jones laid him down like that."
"Yes, that's right," said Jones, edging forward a little. "And I put my coat under his head, just as you see, Inspector. And if it isn't needed any more, I'd be glad-'
"In a moment, sir," said the Inspector severely. "I shall be coming to you presently. Can you describe to me, Mr. White, how you found Mr. Carter's body?"
"Well, I don't know that I can exactly. He was lying in a sort of heap, more or less across the bridge, facing towards the house - my house, I mean."
"I see, sir. And when you realised Mr. Carter had been shot, did either you, or Mr. Jones, think to look in the thicket there?"
"I don't know what Mr. Jones thought of: I certainly didn't," replied White. "All I thought of was to get a doctor as quickly as I could, in case Mr. Carter was still alive."
"Very proper, I'm sure, sir," the Inspector said, and turned towards Hugh. "And now, sir, if you'd tell me where you were at the time of Mr. Carter's death?"
"I haven't any idea," responded Hugh. "You see, I don't know when he died, or, in fact, anything about it, other than what I've been told."