A helmeted figure swept me aside, I saw a gleam in the moonlight--a flash, and felt that a shot was fired, although I can not remember hearing it. The Big Train ceased to rise and fall. He swayed, staggered and crumpled to the ground. "An ambulance--quick!" I said to the heaven-sent policeman; and saw him start for the gate on a lumbering trot. Then I stooped to the figure, lying with its head in what the moonlight had changed to a pool of ink. Suddenly I felt a woman's soft form beneath my hands. It was in white and it covered that other dreadful figure with its own . . . and moaned. "This won't do," I said to the girl. "Let me see how badly he's hurt." She took Blister's head in her arms. "Go 'way from here! He's dead," she said. "He saved me . . . he's mine! Go 'way from here!" A crowd was forming. I sent a stableboy for a blanket, put it under Blister's head, despite the girl's protests, and pulled her roughly to her feet. "Go over to that bale and sit down!" I ordered, giving her a shake; and to my surprise she obeyed. "Sit with her!" I said to the German, and I heard her repeat, "Go 'way from here!" as he approached. . . . The ambulance clanged through the gate. The young surgeon put his ear to Blister's heart, picked the limp body up unaided and placed it in the somber-looking vehicle. "Beat it, Max!" he said to the driver. "What hospital?" I called after him. "Saint Luke's!" he shouted, as they gathered speed. "You had better take her home now," I suggested to Mr. Shultz. "I am going to the hospital." "So am I," said the girl. "Tell mother," she directed at the German, as she started for the gate. "You'd better not go," I remonstrated. "I'll let you know everything as soon as I hear." She paid not the slightest attention. When we reached the street she stopped on the wrong corner waiting for a car that would have taken her away from, instead of toward, the hospital. "You can't go down-town like this!" I said, making a last effort. "Look at your dress!" and I pointed to the front of her gown--a bright crimson under the electric light. She looked down at herself and shuddered. "I'll go if it's the last thing I do," she said. "You can save your breath." The car was all but empty. The girl sat staring, dry-eyed, straight before her. A dirty old woman, seeing the set face and blood-stained dress, leaned eagerly across the aisle. "Has the young lady been hurt?" she wheezed. "None of your business," said Miss Malloy. And the old woman subsided at this shaft of plain truth. Our ride was half completed when my companion began to speak, in a broken monotone. She addressed no one in particular. If was as though conscience spoke through unconscious lips.