Lorraine saw him stand back and lift his quirt to slash the horse across the rump.

Even through the crash of thunder Lorraine heard the horse go past her down the hill, galloping furiously.
When she could see again she glimpsed him running, while something bounced along on the ground beside him.
She saw the other man, with a dry branch in his hand, dragging it across the road where it ran between the two rocks.

Then Lorraine Hunter, hardened to the sight of crimes committed for picture values only, realized sickeningly that she had just looked upon a real murder,--the cold-blooded killing of a man.

She felt very sick.

Queer little red sparks squirmed and danced before her eyes.