He had got the impression that a revolver was as
much a part of the ordinary well-dressed man's equipment in the
United States as a collar.
'I think it was a burglar,' said Elizabeth. 'There have been a lot
of burglaries down here this summer.'
'Would a burglar burgle the outhouse? Rummy idea, rather, what?
Not much sense in it. I think it must have been a tramp. I expect
tramps are always popping about and nosing into all sorts of
extraordinary places, you know.'
'He must have been standing quite close to us while we were
talking,' said Elizabeth, with a shiver.
Bill looked about him. Everywhere was peace. No sinister sounds
competed with the croaking of the tree frogs. No alien figures
infested the landscape. The only alien figure, that of Mr
Pickering, was wedged into a bush, invisible to the naked eye.
'He's gone now, at any rate,' he said. 'What are we going to do?'
Elizabeth gave another shiver as she glanced hurriedly at the
deceased. After life's fitful fever Eustace slept well, but he was
not looking his best.
'With--it?' she said.
'I say,' advised Bill, 'I shouldn't call him "it," don't you know.
It sort of rubs it in. Why not "him"? I suppose we had better bury
him. Have you a spade anywhere handy?'
'There isn't a spade on the place.
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