Gil stiffened, and his hand flew up to his temple.

His eyes became two staring questions that bored into the soul of Jean.
His hand dropped to his side, and his head sagged forward.

He lurched, tried to steady himself and then went down limply.
Jean dropped her gun and darted toward him, her face like chalk, as she turned it for one horrified instant toward Burns.

She went down on her knees and lifted Gil's head, looking at the red blotch on his temple and the trickle that ran down his cheek.

She laid his head down with a gentleness wholly unconscious, and looked again at Burns.