In front lay a scattering of bright metallic fragments.

Sheldon recognized their significance.

Tudor was notching his steel-jacketed bullets, or cutting them blunt, so that they would spread on striking--in short, he was making them into the vicious dum-dum prohibited in modern warfare.
Sheldon knew now what would happen to him if a bullet struck his body.

It would leave a tiny hole where it entered, but the hole where it emerged would be the size of a saucer.
He decided to give up the pursuit, and lay down in the grass, protected right and left by the row of palms, with on either hand the long avenue extending.

This he could watch.