"It doesn't account for your killing your bird at a long range with shot which wouldn't spread. But it's getting dark and we've had enough."
They turned back to the nearest road, and an hour or two after reaching home Andrew walked across to Olcott's. Ethel Hillyard was there, and when they went into dinner Murray, sitting next to her, glanced at Andrew near the other end of the table.
"I was out with Mr. Allinson to-day," he said. "As he's a neighbor of yours, I've no doubt you know him pretty well. He struck me as a particularly straight man."
"He is so," declared Ethel warmly. "I don't know a straighter. Still, I don't see how you came to that conclusion by watching his shooting."
"It doesn't seem very obvious," Murray responded with a smile. "However, so far as my experience goes, a man who's scrupulous in one thing is very apt to prove the same in another. When we were out this afternoon, a snipe got up in front of him and he let me have the shot."
"But how does that prove his general honesty?"
"I'm not sure I was entitled to the shot, though as the bird headed slightly toward me there was some doubt about the matter. Allinson gave me the full benefit, though I think he must have known that I would miss."
"Is it a great sacrifice to give up a shot?"
"A snipe," said Murray, "is very hard to hit, though Allinson showed us afterward that he is capable of bringing one down. Now when you know you can do a difficult thing neatly, it's not easy to refrain."
"Perhaps that's true," Ethel agreed. "No doubt the temptation's stronger when you have an appreciative audience."