Take Gardner Willings. He had left after the scuffle; had been seen to leave. He would have had ample time to go into a blind somewhere and wait his prey. Consider him seriously, therefore? Intangibles entered, then -- hunches which felt like facts. Willings would ambush, certainly; Willings undoubtedly had. Willings was, presumably, a better than average shot. But -- hunch, now -- Willings would not ambush anything which went on two legs instead of four. Because, if for no other reason, Willings would never for a moment suppose he was not bigger, tougher, than anything else that went on two legs. Ambushes are laid by those who doubt themselves, as any man may against a tiger.

Faith Constable had had to ``go on'' from the party and had, presumably, gone on. To be checked out further. Forget motive? No, motive is a part of fact. Nobody in his right mind punishes a quarter-century old dereliction. Grudges simply do not keep that well in a sane mind. Faith Constable had accomplished much in a quarter of a century. Jeopardize it now to correct so old a wrong? Bill shook his head. Also, he thought, I doubt if she could hit the side of a barn with a shotgun.

Lauren herself? She had left the party early, pleading a headache. No lack of opportunity, presuming she had a gun. She might, conceivably, have brought one in in a large enough suitcase. (Check on the Payne luggage.) She might now have taken it away again. Motive -- her husband wandering? Bitter, unreasoning jealousy? Heaven knew it happened and hell knew it too. But -- it happened, almost always, among the primitive and, usually, among the very young. (Call it mentally young; call it retarded.) There was nothing to indicate that Lauren Payne was primitive. She did not move in primitive circles. She was young, but not that young.