ere open when I came
up. But I heard shots, Basil. I thought they were toward the road. I
went out there; but I found nothing. I was coming back when I saw the
window open. I'm sure I heard shots."

"They were here," Santoine said. "But you can see; and you just heard
the shots. You didn't see anything!" the blind man accused. "You
didn't see any one going away from here!"

"Basil, what has happened here?"

Santoine felt again the stickiness at his feet. "Three or four persons
fought in this room, Wallace. Some--or one was hurt. There's blood on
the floor. There are two here I can hear breathing; I suppose they're
hurt. Probably the rest are gone. The room's all dark, isn't it?
That is you moving about now, Wallace?"

"Yes."

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for the light."

"Don't."

"Why, Basil?"

"Get help first. I think those who aren't hurt are gone. They must be
gone. But--get help first, Wallace."

"And leave you here?" Blatchford rejoined. He had not halted again;
the blind man heard his cousin still moving along the wall. The
electric switch clicked, and Santoine knew that the room was flooded
with light. Santoine straightened, strained, turning his head a little
to better listen. With the flashing on of the light, he had heard the
sharp, involuntary start of Blatchford as he saw the room; and, besides
that, Santoine heard movement now elsewhere in the room. Then the
blind man heard his friend's cry. "Good God!"

It was not, Santoine instantly sensed, from mere surprise or fright at
finding some intruder in the room; that must have been expected. This
was from something more astounding, from something incredible.

"What is it?" Santoine cried.

"Good God! Basil!"

"Who is it, Wallace?" the blind man knew now that his friend's
incoherence came from recognition of some one, not alone from some
sight of horror. "Who is it, Wallace?" he repeated, curbing himself.

"Basil! It is---it must be--I know him! It is--"

A shot roared in front of Santoine. The blind man, starting back at
the shock of it, drew in the powder-gas with his breath; but the bullet
was not for him. Instead, he heard his friend scream and choke and
half call, half cough.

"Wallace!" Santoine cried out; but his voice was lost in the roar of
another shot. This was not fired by the same one who had just fired;
at least, it was not from the same part of the room; and instantly,
from another side, a