The Spanish grandmother had risen in Beatrice and declared herself! Cold-blooded assassination shook the air of Anthony's apartment. His head spun; he wondered hysterically if there would be much screaming before it was all over--if the police and the Lasande employees would break in before the ghastly finish of the affair. There would be just one finish, and it was written in those flaming eyes, written more clearly than any print! And afterward? Well, there would be no afterward for Anthony. He understood that perfectly, yet he was too numb to grieve just now. Fifteen minutes after the worst had happened, the Lasande would present him with a check covering the balance of his lease and would request him to go: such was the procedure here and it had proved court-proof. Although he could afford to laugh at them. He had merely to sit down and wait until the news had traveled a bit; Mary's father or Robert Vining would attend to the rest--and there would be the end of Anthony Fry's stately, contented existence. Beatrice was gone! Flaming eyes, heaving bosom, pathetic little hat--all had vanished together, but they had vanished down the corridor, and life leaped suddenly through Anthony's veins. Even now there was a chance--faint and forlorn, but still a chance to save Mary's life at least! He turned, did Anthony Fry, just as Johnson Boller flew after his demented spouse, and glided into Johnson Boller's bedroom. Mary, very white indeed, was waiting for him. "Where is she now?" she panted. "You heard?" "Of course I heard!" "Miss Mary," said Anthony, "I'm afraid that the time has come when we'll have to stop planning and act. The lady is--er--essentially crazy just now. It is painful enough, but you'll have to leave as you are. Yes, even without a hat, for she has that. Simply leave!" "And if I'm recognized?" "It is unavoidable." Mary stamped her foot. "Well, it isn't, and I think you're the stupidest old man I ever knew!" she said flatteringly, as she sped to the closet. "Here! Give me a hand with it!" "With what?" "The wardrobe trunk, of course. I've been looking at it and trying to get it open, but I cannot do it in there. I'm going out in that trunk!" "Eh?" said Anthony, tugging at it quite stupidly. "Open it!" Mary commanded. Anthony opened it. "Yes, there's room and to spare, if you'll take out those drawers and things!" the girl said quickly. "No! Pile them in the closet neatly; she'll look in there! Now, about your man; is he strong?" "Very, I believe." "Get him here, quick!" said Mary. She seemed to have taken matters into her own hand; more, she seemed to know what she was about. Anthony, after an instant of blank staring, pushed four times on the button of Johnson Boller's room, which signal indicated that Wilkins was needed in a hurry.