“A benevolent war, at any rate. I was quite at his mercy, and he might have killed me as easily as—”
He stopped. A sharp report, like a pine-knot snapping in a fire or an ice-stiffened twig breaking in two, but greatly magnified, had come to his ears. Then the echo came to them, softer but unmistakable.
It was the report of a gun.
“From the house!” yelled Ellery. “Come on!”
Thorne was pale as they scrambled through the drifts. “Gun... I forgot. I left my revolver under the pillow in my bedroom. Do you think—?”
Ellery scrabbled at his own pocket. “Mine’s still here... No, by George, I’ve been scotched!” His cold fingers fumbled with the cylinder. “Bullets taken out. And I’ve no spare ammunition.” He fell silent, his mouth hardening.
They found the women and Reinach running about like startled animals, searching for they knew not what.
“Did you hear it, too?” cried the fat
###
man as they burst into the house.