"Killed Courtney? What's the matter with you? Why do you say he has killed--" "Don't you see--can't you understand? It was Courtney who surprised him. That's why he ran. He shot,--oh, let go of me! Let go of me, I say!" "I'll do nothing of the sort," cried Mrs. Strong. "Do you want to get shot? Come away from this door!" A door slammed against the wall at the back of the house. Some one came running through the dining-room. First the cook, then the little waitress, dashed into the hall. "Wha-what is it? What's the matter?" shouted the former. "What was that shootin'--" "Where is Stevens?" demanded Mrs. Strong, as she fairly pushed Alix into the living-room. "Call him! Isn't he out there in--" "He went out,--half hour ago,--out," stuttered the waitress. "Who's been--what's happened to Miss Alix?" "Nothing! Go and yell for Ed! Thieves! On the porch. Don't stand there, Hilda. Go out back and scream!" "Oh, my God! Ed's killed! He's been shot! My husband's been shot!" It was the cook who sent this lamentation to the very roof of the house. Mrs. Strong whispered fiercely in Alix's ear: "That's it! Ed is the one who surprised him. Courtney nothing! Now, you stay here! I'll telephone. Don't you dare go outside, Alix Crown. A stray bullet--" Far away sounded the third shot, muffled by distance and the shriek of the wind.... Mrs. Strong was off somewhere trying to telephone. Shrill voices, out back, were screaming. Alix stood alone in the middle of the long room, staring at the window in which the sinister face had appeared. She had not moved in what seemed to be an age. A strange, incredible thing was creeping through her mind,--a thought that was not a part of her, something that seemed to shape itself outside of her brain and force its way in to crowd out the fear and anxiety that had gripped her but a few short moments before. What would it mean to her if Courtney Thane were dead out there in the night? It was not the question but the answer that fixed itself in her mind. She was unconscious of the one, but vividly aware of the other. His death would mean--emancipation! For one brief instant she actually LONGED for the word that he was dead! The reaction was swift, overwhelming. "God!" she gasped, shutting her eyes and clenching her hands in an ecstasy of revulsion. "What a beast,--what a horrible beast I am! What a coward!" Her knees trembled; an icy perspiration seemed to start out all over her body. She had wished him dead! She had grasped at THAT as the solution! Her heart had leaped joyously! It was as if some great weight suddenly had been lifted from it. Now she was numb with horror. What devilish power had taken possession of her in that brief, soul-destroying instant? She shuddered. She was afraid to open her eyes. She reached out with her hand for the support of the table. She had longed for some one to come and tell her that he was dead!