There was a sound of a thousand Niagaras roaring in her ears as she brought the roadster to a standstill and turned to Rodgers. Bending down she pressed her ear over his heart--its feeble beat reassured her--he was still alive. Kitty searched frantically for her handkerchief and for his. Tying them together she bound his wound as best she could; then with compressed lips and in breathless haste she started the car headlong for Washington. As they tore madly down the road, one question only throbbed through her aching head: Who had shot her lover? CHAPTER XVII "K. B." Inspector Mitchell looked at the policeman standing in front of his desk with approval. "You have done well, Donovan," he exclaimed. "Exactly at what hour was Major Leigh Wallace seen leaving 'Rose Hill' on Sunday afternoon?" "Mrs. Murray claims that it was about five o'clock or a little after," Donovan replied, consulting his notes. "And why hasn't she reported this before?" "She's been ill with the grippe, and all news of the murder was kept from her," the policeman answered. "She told her boy to-day, after learning about Miss Baird's death, to watch for me when I was on my beat. I went over to see her the moment my relief came. It wasn't an hour ago," looking at the office clock which registered half-past nine, "Mrs. Murray said she would be glad to talk to you to-morrow, but to-night she feels too weak." "Which is her house?" "The one next to the Baird mansion on the east--this way--" Donovan moved his hands about to demonstrate his sense of direction. "It's the house you have to pass to return to Washington." "Was Major Wallace in his car on Sunday afternoon?" "No, sir, he was walking." Donovan waited a moment before adding, "Mrs. Murray swears she knows Major Wallace well by sight; that she's seen him too often waiting for Miss Kitty Baird to be mistaken. She was just stepping into her front walk when the Major brushed by her in such a devil of a hurry that he nearly knocked her down." Mitchell closed the drawers of his desk, locked them, and arose. "That is all now, Donovan," he said. "Report at once if you obtain any further information. Don't wait to come in person, telephone." "All right, Inspector," and saluting, Donovan hurried away. The door had hardly closed after him before it opened to admit a plain clothes detective. "Well, Welsh, what luck?" Mitchell asked eagerly. "An old colored man did board the three o'clock train this afternoon for Front Royal, Inspector," he reported. "The gatekeeper and one of the porters declared that he answered the description you furnished." "Was a woman with him?" "No, sir; not that I can find out. Every one swears that the old man was alone."