Robin lunged for it desperately--but too late. The revolver spoke, once, and he sank to the floor. Zora screamed, her eyes widening with horror upon his twitching body. She clutched at her throat. She screamed again, insanely, and reached out for the door. Then the revolver spoke a second time, and she collapsed beside her lover. Anton knelt beside them and watched them die. They were an unconscionably long time about it, he thought. The telephone began ringing. That would be the management. Somebody, of course, had heard the shots and Zora's piercing screams. Anton, still kneeling beside their bodies, watched their blood flow together and stain the rug with a grotesque pattern. The telephone continued to ring. Suddenly there came a sharp knock at the door. That would be the house detective. Anton made sure they were both quite dead; and then he rose and crossed the room and sat down upon the couch. He had one shot left in his revolver. And--just as the door burst violently open--he sent it neatly through his heart.