“That fellow Orlanduccio refused to fight it out like a gentleman.”
“That is not the custom here. In this country, people lie in ambush, and kill each other from behind. There is one deposition in his favour—that of a child, who declares she heard four reports, two of which were louder than the others, and produced by a heavy weapon, such as Signor della Rebbia’s gun. Unluckily, the child is the niece of one of the bandits suspected of being his accomplices, and has probably been taught her lesson.”
“Sir,” broke in Miss Lydia, reddening to the roots of her hair, “we were on the road when those shots were fired, and we heard the same thing.”
“Really? That’s most important! And you, colonel, no doubt you remarked the very same thing?”
“Yes,” responded Miss Lydia quickly. “It was my father, who is so accustomed to firearms, who said to me, ‘There’s Signor della Rebbia shooting with my gun!’”
“And you are sure those shots you recognised were the last?”
“The two last, weren’t they, papa?”
Memory was not the colonel’s strong point, but as a standing rule, he knew better than to contradict his daughter.
“I must mention this to the public prosecutor at once, colonel. And besides, we expect a surgeon this evening, who will make an examination of the two bodies, and find out whether the wounds were caused by that particular weapon.”
“I gave it to Orso,” said the colonel, “and I wish I knew it was at the bottom of the sea. At least——Plucky boy! I’m heartily glad he had it with him, for I don’t quite know how he would have got off if it hadn’t been for my Manton.”