e wouldn't help me. He said no decent doctor
would. _You_ ain't a decent doctor. You're a lying devil. Are you going
to help me out?"

"If you had come in a proper spirit--"

"That's enough. I've got my answer." She rose slowly to her feet. "After
I found out what was wrong with me, I went home to my father. I didn't
tell him about myself. But I told him I was quitting the Certina
business. And he told me about my mother, how you sent her to her death.
One word from me would have brought him here after you. _This_ time he
wouldn't have missed you. Then they'd have hung him, I suppose. That's
why I held my tongue. You killed my mother, you and your quack
medicines; and now you've done this to me." Her hand jerked up out of
the wrap. "I don't see where you come in to live any longer," said Milly
Neal deliberately.

Dr. Surtaine looked into the muzzle of a revolver.

There was a step on the soft rug outside, the curtain of the door to Dr.
Surtaine's right parted, and Hal appeared. He carried a light stick.

"I thought I heard--" he began. Then, seeing the revolver, "What's this!
Put that down!"

"Don't move, either of you," warned the girl. "I haven't said my say
out. You're a fine-matched pair, you two! Him with his sugar-pills and
you, Hal Surtaine, with your lying promises."

Lying promises! The phrase, thus used in the girl's mouth against the
son, struck to the father's heart, confirming his dread. It _was_ Hal,
then. For the moment he forgot his instant peril, in his sorrow and
shame.

"I don't know why I shouldn't kill you both," went on the half-crazed
girl. "That'd even the score. Two Surtaines against two Neals, my mother
and me."

The light of slaying was in her eyes, as she stiffened her arm. Just a
fraction of an inch the arm swerved, for a streak of light was darting
toward her. Hal had taken the only chance. He had flung his cane,
whirling, in the hope of diverting her aim, and had followed it at a
leap.

The two shots were almost instantaneous. At the second, the quack reeled
back against the wall. The girl turned swiftly upon Hal, and as he
seized her he felt the cold steel against his neck. The touch seemed to
paralyze him. Strangely enough, the thought of death was summed up in a
vast, regretful curiosity to know why all this was happening. Then the
weapon fell.

"I can't kill _you_!" cried the girl, in a bursting sob, and fell, face
down, upon the floor.

Hal, snatching up the revolver,