“I don’t know what time Robin went. He said he was going to wait for Belle—Miss Dillard. I left him in the archery-room.”
“You saw Mr. Drukker?”
“For a minute—yes. He was in the archery-room when Robin and I went down-stairs; but he left immediately.”
“Through the wall gate? Or did he walk down the range?”
“I don’t remember—in fact, I didn’t notice. . . . Say, look here: what’s all this about anyway?”
“Mr. Robin was killed this morning,” said Vance, “—at some time near eleven o’clock.”
Sperling’s eyes seemed to start from his head.
“Robin killed? My God! . . . Who—who killed him?” The man’s lips were dry, and he wetted them with his tongue.
“We don’t know yet,” Vance answered. “He was shot through the heart with an arrow.”
This news left Sperling stunned. His eyes traveled vaguely from side to side, and he fumbled in his pocket for a cigarette.