n and muscles along the back were torn
by the passage of shot.

"By Jove!" said Mr. Quest, "I think he is done for."

The Colonel nodded. He had some experience of shot wounds, and the
present was not of a nature to encourage hope of the patient's
survival.

"How did it happen?" asked Mr. Quest presently, as he mopped up the
streaming blood with a sponge.

"It was an accident," groaned the Colonel. "Your wife was looking at
my new gun. I told her it was loaded, and that she must be careful,
and I thought she had put it down. The next thing that I heard was the
report. It is all my cursed fault for leaving the cartridges in."

"Ah," said Mr. Quest. "She always thought she understood guns. It is a
shocking accident."

Just then one of the doctors, followed by Belle Quest, ran up the lawn
carrying a box of instruments, and in another minute was at work. He
was a quick and skilful surgeon, and having announced that the patient
was not dead, at once began to tie one of the smaller arteries in the
throat, which had been pierced, and through which Edward Cossey was
rapidly bleeding to death. By the time that this was done the other
doctor, an older man, put in an appearance, and together they made a
rapid examination of the injuries.

Belle stood by holding a basin of water. She did not speak, and on her
face was that same fixed look of horror which Harold had observed
after the discharge of the gun.

When the examination was finished the two doctors whispered together
for a few seconds.

"Will he live?" asked Mr. Quest.

"We cannot say," answered the older doctor. "We do not think it likely
that he will. It depends upon the extent of his injuries, and whether
or no they have extended to the spine. If he does live he will
probably be paralysed to some extent, and must certainly lose the
hearing of the right ear."

When she heard this Belle sank down upon a chair overwhelmed. Then the
two doctors, assisted by Harold, set to work to carry Edward Cossey
into another room which had been rapidly prepared, leaving Mr. Quest
alone with his wife.

He came, stood in front of her, looked her in the face, and then
laughed.

"Upon my word," he said, "we men are bad enough, but you women beat us
in wickedness."

"What do you mean?" she said faintly.

"I mean that you are a murderess, Belle," he said solemnly. "And you
are a bungler, too. You could not hold the gun straight."

"I deny it," she said, "the gun went off-