“Did you hear—that cry?” I whispered, “immediately after the shot?”
“I heard it.”
A moment longer he stood fixedly watching, and then:
“Not a wisp of smoke,” he said. “You note the direction in which he was facing when he fell?”
He spoke in a stern and unnatural voice.
“I do. He must have turned half right when he came to the sun-dial.”
“Where were you when the shot was fired?”
“Running in this direction.”
“You saw no flash?”
“None.”