Between Cutty's heart and his throat there was very little space at that moment for the propelment of sound.

Kitty Conover had innocently--he understood that almost immediately and recovered his mental balance--Kitty had innocently thrown a bomb at his feet.

It did not matter that it was a dud.

The result was the same.

For a second, then, all the terror, all the astounding suspension of thought and action attending the arrival of a shell on the battlefield were his.