"Theodore?" she repeated breathlessly. "Yes, and the Bates man was with Grandoken. I heard loud talking, stole into the little hall, and found the back part of the house empty. Jinnie wasn't there; at least I didn't see her. Bates had already inveigled Mrs. Grandoken away. I opened the door into the cobbler's shop just as Theo was striking Bates in the face. I waited a minute, and as Theo struck out again, I fired----" "Fired!" gasped Molly. "Yes, at Grandoken. I wanted to kill him----" "But Theo--you might have hit Theodore, Jordan." "But I didn't, I tell you! I'm sure I didn't. If I hit any one, 'twas Bates or the cobbler.... Get back near the veranda for fear Theodore 'phones." No sooner had the words left his lips than a bell sounded from the house. Molly ran up the steps. As she took down the receiver, she dropped it, but picked it up again. "Halloa," she called faintly. "Is this Theodore King's home?" shouted a voice. "Yes." "Mr. King's had an accident. He's in the hospital. Break the news carefully to his mother, please." Dazedly, Molly slipped the receiver back to its hook. She stumbled to the porch and down the steps, her face ashen with anguish. "You shot Theo, Jordan," she cried hysterically. "Shut your head," growled Morse, glancing furtively about. "Don't talk so loud.... Now then, listen! There'll be hell to pay for this. But Bates won't peach, and I'm sure I clipped the cobbler's wings. Keep quiet till you hear from me." He sprang again into the machine and was gone before the woman could gather her wits together. She turned and went slowly up the steps. It was her duty to break the news to Theodore's mother--she who knew so much, but dared to tell so little! How to open the conversation with the gentle sufferer she knew not. Mrs. King smiled a greeting as she entered, but at the sight of Molly's face, her book dropped to the floor. "What is it?" she stammered. Molly knelt down beside her. "Probably very little," she said hastily. "Don't get excited--please--but--but----" "It's Theodore!" gasped the mother, intuitively. "He's hurt a little, just a little, and they've taken him to the hospital." Mrs. King tried to rise, but dropped back weakly. "He's badly hurt or he'd come home." "I'll find out," offered Molly eagerly. Then as an afterthought, "I'll go if you'll promise me to stay very quiet until I get back." "I promise," said Mrs. King, sobbing, "but go quickly! I simply can't be still when I'm uncertain." In another house of lesser proportions, a girl was huddled in a chair, gazing at Lafe Grandoken. "An' they told you over the telephone he was dyin'?" he demanded, looking at Jinnie. "Yes," gulped Jinnie, "and Maudlin's dead. The hospital people say Mr. King can't live." The last words were stammered and scarcely audible. "Lafe, who shot him?" "I dunno," said Lafe. "Didn't you see who had the gun?" persisted the girl, wiping her eyes.