Redwood, careless of Bensington in his excitement, rushed in pursuit, and was knocked headlong by a mass of brick fragments, mortar, plaster, and rotten lath splinters that came flying out at him as a bullet whacked through the wall.
He found himself sitting on the ground with blood on his hands and lips, and a great stillness brooded over all about him.
Then a flattish voice from within the house remarked: "Gee-whizz!" "Hullo!" said Redwood.
"Hullo there!" answered the voice.
And then: "Did you chaps get 'im ?" A sense of the duties of friendship returned to Redwood.

"Is Mr.
Bensington hurt ?" he said.
The man inside heard imperfectly.

"No one ain't to blame if I ain't," said the voice inside.
It became clearer to Redwood that he must have shot Bensington.

He forgot the cuts upon his face, arose and came back to find Bensington seated on the ground and rubbing his shoulder.

Bensington looked over his glasses.