Crouched low, his pistol level at his side, he ran swiftly in the direction from which the shot must have come.

The moon revealed the dark edge of the forest a hundred yards away, and he was sure that his attempted murderer had stood somewhere between Adare House and the timber when he fired.

He was not afraid of a second shot.

Even caution was lost in his mad desire to catch Jean red-handed and choke a confession of several things from his lips.

If Jean had suddenly risen out of the snow he would not have used his pistol unless forced to do so.