“Is that the new gun, Colonel Quaritch?” said Mrs. Quest presently; “what a beautiful one!”
“Be careful,” he said, “I haven’t taken the cartridges out.”
If he had been looking at her, which at that moment he was not, Harold would have seen her stagger and catch at the wall for support. Then he would have seen an awful and malevolent light of sudden determination pass across her face.
“All right,” she said, “I know about guns. My father used to shoot and I often cleaned his gun,” and she took the weapon up and began to examine the engraving on the locks.
“What is this?” she said, pointing to a little slide above the locks on which the word “safe” was engraved in gold letters.
“Oh, that’s the safety bolt,” he said. “When you see the word ‘safe,’ the locks are barred and the gun won’t go off. You have to push the bolt forward before you can fire.”
“So?” she said carelessly, and suiting the action to the word.
“Yes, so, but please be careful, the gun is loaded.”
“Yes, I’ll be careful,” she answered. “Well, it is a very pretty gun, and so light that I believe I could shoot with it myself.”
Meanwhile Edward Cossey and Mr. Quest, who were walking up the garden, had separated, Mr. Quest going to the right across the lawn to pick up a glove which had dropped upon the grass, while Edward Cossey slowly sauntered towards them. When he was about nine paces off he too halted and, stooping a little, looked abstractedly at a white Japanese chrysanthemum which was still in bloom. Mrs. Quest turned, as the Colonel thought, to put the gun back against the wall. He would have offered to take it from her but at the moment both his hands were occupied in extracting one of the “painters” from a snipe. The next thing he was aware of was a loud explosion, followed by an exclamation or rather a cry from Mrs. Quest. He dropped the snipe and looked up, just in time to see the gun, which had leapt from her hands with the recoil, strike against the wall of the house and fall to the ground. Instantly, whether by instinct or by chance he never knew, he glanced towards the place where Edward Cossey stood, and saw that his face was streaming with blood and that his right arm hung helpless by his side. Even as he looked, he saw him put his uninjured hand to his head, and, without a word or a sound, sink down on the gravel path.