The words would not come; and I glanced around again for succour.
“Turn your face to me, sir,” thundered the doctor, “and answer my question.”
What could I say? Where could I look? The question was repeated once more.
“I only know I fancy I heard a shot in the night.” I stammered at last.
A flutter of interest went round the room. Failing all other clues it evidently seemed to be something to most of those present to elicit even this.
“Why did you not say so when you were asked this morning?”
No answer.
“Do you hear me, sir?”
“Please, sir, I couldn’t be sure I had not been dreaming.”
“When did you hear this sound?”