“True,” replied Paul Harley; “and did Ah Tsong return to his room?”
“Not immediately. Permit me to say, Mr. Harley, that the nature of your questions surprises me. At the moment I fail to see their bearing upon the main issue. He returned and reported to my wife that I was writing, and she then requested him to bring her a glass of milk. Accordingly, he came down again, and going out into the kitchen, executed this order.”
“Ah. He would have to light a candle for that purpose, I suppose?”
“A candle, or a lamp,” replied Colin Camber, staring at Paul Harley. Then, his expression altering: “Of course!” he cried. “You saw the light from Cray’s Folly? I understand at last.”
We were silent for a while, until:
“How long a time elapsed between the firing of the shot and Ah Tsong’s knocking at the study door?” asked Harley.
“I could not answer definitely. I was absorbed in my work. But probably only a minute or two.”
“Was the sound a loud one?”
“Fairly loud. And very startling, of course, in the silence of the night.”
“The shot, then, was fired from somewhere quite near the house?”
“I presume so.”
“But you thought no more about the matter?”
“Frankly, I had forgotten it. You see, the neighbourhood is rich with game; it might have been a poacher.”
“Quite,” murmured Harley, but his face was very stern. “I wonder if you fully realize the danger of your position, Mr. Camber?”
