“Yes, some one certainly did!” He gave a wheezy laugh as he lifted a hand to his shoulder.
“And he almost got me. He made the fur fly, and if it had struck an inch or two lower down I should have been out of action for a while at any rate. He must be a rotten shot, for out there on the snow I must have been a perfect mark!”
“But what on earth can your man be——”
“It is not Joe,” broke in Bracknell with conviction. “Even if he has gone clean into lunacy he’d never do a thing like that to me. Besides, Joe had no gun with him. Our guns are there in the corner, and as we’ve run out of ammunition they are no use. It simply can’t be Joe.”
“Then who can it be? And why should he want to do a thing like that?”
“It may be your other man—Jim, didn’t you call him? He may have returned, and thinking you were prisoners here, may have tried to get me in the hope of releasing you.”
“But you forget the attack on Babette! Some one shot arrows at her and——”
“By Jove! I had forgotten something! Stand away from the door. I’m going to open it. There’s something I want to get.”
“Oh, be careful!” cried Joy.
He swung around and looked at her whimsically, then he said quietly, “I’ll be careful for your sake, not my own. I’ve got to get you safely out of this. That much I owe you at any rate.”