hastily. "Don't get
excited--please--but--but----"

"It's Theodore!" gasped the mother, intuitively.

"He's hurt a little, just a little, and they've taken him to the
hospital."

Mrs. King tried to rise, but dropped back weakly.

"He's badly hurt or he'd come home."

"I'll find out," offered Molly eagerly. Then as an afterthought, "I'll
go if you'll promise me to stay very quiet until I get back."

"I promise," said Mrs. King, sobbing, "but go quickly! I simply can't
be still when I'm uncertain."

In another house of lesser proportions, a girl was huddled in a chair,
gazing at Lafe Grandoken.

"An' they told you over the telephone he was dyin'?" he demanded,
looking at Jinnie.

"Yes," gulped Jinnie, "and Maudlin's dead. The hospital people say Mr.
King can't live." The last words were stammered and scarcely audible.
"Lafe, who shot him?"

"I dunno," said Lafe.

"Didn't you see who had the gun?" persisted the girl, wiping her
eyes.

"Mr. King didn't have it; nuther did Maudlin. It came from over there,
an' I heard a car drive away right after."

Jinnie shook her head hopelessly. It was all so mysterious that her
heart was gripped with fright. A short time before, an officer had
been there cross-questioning Lafe suspiciously. Then he had gone away
with the pistol in his pocket. She stared out of the window,
fear-shadowed. In a twinkling her whole love world had tumbled about
her ears, and she listened as the cobbler told her once more the story
of the hour she'd been away with Bobbie.

"There're two men coming here right now," she said suddenly, getting
up. "Lafe, there's Burns, the cop on this beat."

"They're wantin' to find out more, I presume," replied Lafe wearily.

As the men entered the shop, Jinnie backed away and stood with rigid
muscles. She was dizzily frightened at the sight of the gruff
officers, who had not even saluted Lafe.

The foremost man was a stranger to them both.

"Are you Lafe Grandoken?" he demanded, looking at the cobbler.

"Yes," affirmed Lafe.

The man flourished a paper with staid importance.

"I'm the sheriff of this county, an' I've a warrant for your arrest
for murderin' Maudlin Bates," he sing-songed.

Jinnie sprang forward.

"Lafe didn't shoot 'im," she cried desperately.

The man eyed her critically.

"Did you do it, kid?" he asked, smiling.

"No, I wasn't here!" answered Jinnie, short-breathed.

"Then how'd you know he didn't do it?"

For a moment