There in front of him on the couch sat Heda, grasping its edge with her fingers, her cheeks as pale as a sheet and her eyes shining.

By her side was Anscombe, cool and collected as usual, I noticed, but evidently perplexed.
"If there is any shooting to be done," he was saying, "I think you had better begin with me." His calmness seemed to exasperate Rodd, who lifted the revolver.
But I too was prepared, for in that house I always went armed.
There was no time to get at the man, who was perhaps fifteen feet away, and I did not want to hurt him.

So I did the best I could; that is, I fired at the pistol in his hand, and the light being good, struck it near the hilt and knocked it off the barrel before the he could press the trigger, if he really meant to shoot.
"That's a good shot," remarked Anscombe who had seen me, while Rodd stared at the hilt which he still held.
"A lucky one," I answered, walking forward.

"And now, Dr.Rodd, will you be so good as to tell me what you mean by flourishing a revolver, presumably loaded, in the faces of a lady and an unarmed man ?" "What the devil is that to you," he asked furiously, "and what do you mean by firing at me ?" "A great deal," I answered, "seeing that a young woman and my friend are concerned.

As for firing at you, had I done so you would not be asking questions now.