A flash--a crack.

He had fired a pistol full in Campbell's face.
Tom was startled, not at the thing, but that such a man should have done it.

He had seen souls, and too many, flit out of the world by that same tiny crack, in Californian taverns, Arabian deserts, Australian gullies.
He knew all about that: but he liked Campbell; and he breathed more freely the next moment, when he saw him standing still erect, a quiet smile on his face, and felt the plaster dropping from the wall upon his own head.

The bullet had gone over the Major.

All was right.
"He is not man enough for a second shot," thought Tom quietly, "while the Major's eye is on him." "I beg your pardon, Mr.Vavasour," he heard the Major say, in a gentle unmoved voice, "for this intrusion.