The stranger was dead and we took his body to our home and my uncle set out for the constable.

Over and over again that night I told the story of the shooting.

We went to the scene of the tragedy with lanterns and fenced it off and put some men on guard there.
How the event itself and all that hurrying about in the dark had shocked and excited me! The whole theater of life had changed.

Its audience had suddenly enlarged and was rushing over the stage and a kind of terror was in every face and voice.

There was a red-handed villain behind the scenes, now, and how many others, I wondered.