THE SALAD OF COLONEL CRAY
absorbed in detail more at leisure. For the moment he only saw one thing about the man; which was the revolver in his hand.
"Cray!" exclaimed the Major, staring at him, "did you fire that shot?"
"Yes, I did," retorted the black-haired gentleman hotly, "and so would you in my place. If you were chased everywhere by devils and nearly——"
The Major seemed to intervene rather hurriedly. "This is my friend Father Brown," he said. And then to Brown: "I don't know whether you've met Colonel Cray of the Royal Artillery."
"I have heard of him, of course," said the priest innocently. "Did you—did you hit anything?"
"I thought so," answered Cray with gravity.
"Did he——" asked Major Putnam in a lowered voice, "did he fall or cry out, or anything?"
Colonel Cray was regarding his host with a strange and steady stare. "I'll tell you exactly what he did," he said. "He sneezed."
Father Brown's hand went half-way to his head, with the gesture of a man remembering somebody's name. He knew now what it was that was neither soda-water nor the snorting of a dog.
"Well," ejaculated the staring Major, "I never heard before that a service revolver was a thing to be sneezed at."
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