How it opens
You were the Reverend Mr Hillyer, vicar of a parish under the downs, and a private ornithologist.
Your claim upon science was a cabinet of eggs, a shotgun of some refinement, and a rare bird once.
You have shot me. Why did you shoot me? I was only going over.
Choose
Carry him to the vicarage yourself, wings and all, and let the parish say what it likes.
Fetch the Doctor first, in the trap, and let a professional pronounce upon wings.
Cover him with your coat where he lies, and go and fetch the gun home, to think.