e--quick--Molly--quick."

She ran as though hypnotized by the force of the suggestion. Hendricks
had his free hand over Brownwell's mouth and around his neck. The
little old man was kicking and wriggling, but Hendricks held him. "Not
here, you fool, not here. Can't you see it would ruin her, you fool?
Not here." He carried and dragged Brownwell across the grass through
the shrubbery and into the Hendricks yard. No one was passing, and the
night had fallen. "Now," said Hendricks, as he backed against a pine
tree, still holding Brownwell, "I shall let you go if you'll promise
to listen to me just a minute until I tell you the whole truth. Molly
is innocent, man--absolutely innocent, and I'll show you if you'll
talk for a moment. Will you promise, man?"

Brownwell nodded his assent; Hendricks looked at him steadily for a
second and then said, "All right," and set the little man on his feet.
The glare of madness came into Brownwell's eyes, and as he turned he
came at Hendricks with his pistol drawn. An instant later there was a
shot. Brownwell saw the amazement flash into Hendricks' eyes, and then
Hendricks sank gently to the foot of the pine tree.

And Molly Brownwell, with the paralysis of terror still upon her,
heard the shot and then heard footsteps running across the grass. A
moment later her husband, empty-handed, chattering, shivering, and
white, stumbled into the room. Rage had been conquered by fear. For an
agonized second the man and woman stared at one another,
speechless--then the wife cried:--

"Oh--oh--why--why--Adrian," and her voice was thick with fear.--

The man was a-tremble--hands, limbs, body--and his mad eyes seemed
to shrink from the woman's gaze. "Oh, God--God--oh, God--" he
panted, and fell upon his face across the sofa. They heard a hurrying
step running toward the Hendricks house, there came a frightened,
choked cry of "Help!" repeated twice, another and another sound of
pattering feet came, and five minutes after the quaking man had
entered the door the whole neighbourhood seemed to be alive with
running figures hurrying silently through the gloom. The thud of feet
and the pounding of her heart, and the whimpering of the little man
who lay, face down, on the sofa, were the only sounds in her ears. She
started to go with the crowd. But Adrian screamed to her to stay.

"Oh," he cried, "he sank so softly--he sank so softly--he sank so
softly! Oh, God, oh, God--he sank so softly!"

And the ne