CHAPTER VIIIThe smoking-room was empty except for Reggie, who was sitting in his usual chair cleaning a gun; but he was not holding the gun in the position in which men who understand guns clean them.
Ian coming suddenly into the room met his eyes before Reggie had quite succeeded in driving the desperation out of them. He said quickly:
'If there's got to be an accident with a gun--I'd rather it were mine!'
'Nonsense! My dear fellow! Nonsense!' Reggie murmured; but he made no protest when Ian took the gun out of his hands. He leaned back in his deep chair with a queer little sigh, as if he suddenly felt tired.
Ian examined the gun; unloaded it and returned it to its place without further comment. Before he turned back to Reggie, he said casually: 'I heard the girl scream; but it was qu
