“Good Lord! How wonderful!” exclaimed Cassels. “And is this Greece or Paradise?”
“It was both—till yesterday,” said Gascoyne. “Now it’s hell. By the way, Cassels, are you a good shot with a revolver?”
“Pretty fair. At least, I used to be, but I’ve had no practice for years.”
“I wonder if you can shoot as well as this.”
And on the instant he turned round and, at arm’s length, held out a Webley, pointing it straight at the cast on the opposite wall. In rapid succession he fired six rounds, smashing the cast into a hundred pieces. His friends, standing one on either side of him, looked on without a word or movement.
“Rather good shooting,” said Cassels, at length, as though it were the most ordinary thing in the world to pour lead into bedroom walls after breakfast.
Bruton, pale and trembling, exclaimed:
“But I thought I’d taken your revolver!”
“Have you taken my other revolver?” asked Gascoyne, his face working with anger. “What the devil for? Where is it? Give it me now. Get it, I tell you! Who in God’s name are you to come here stealing the things I may want at any minute?”
Bruton put his hand on Gascoyne’s arm.