Victor Sarbella rushed forward to lend his assistance, and between them they supported the limp, gray-haired figure down the hall to the wing of the house where Joan Sheridan's belongings had been banished by the coming of Kirklan's bride to Greenacres. This, the room of tragedy, had been Joan's until the coming of the house's new mistress. "You'll find a light button there, near the corner of the turn," directed Gilmore, and Sarbella fumbled for the switch. "It's the last door to the right. She--she's heavier than I thought." As the two men came to the door that Kirklan had indicated, there reached both of their ears the muffled sound of sobbing--convulsive, hysterical sobs. A tremor went through Gilmore. Joan's room being somewhat removed from the other part of the house, it was reasonable that the sound of the shot might not have awakened her, but, being awake, how could she have failed to hear it? And she was not asleep! She was awake--weeping! Apprehensive terror clutched at Gilmore's heart--the terror of a sinister something that he could not explain. Was it possible that, after all, it had been Joan who had screamed? Sarbella, too, looked startled and darted his host a quick, uneasy, questioning glance. His arms being occupied, Gilmore kicked his shoe against the foot of the door, as a substitute for rapping. On the other side of the panel the choking sobs suddenly ceased. "Yes?" "It's Kirklan, Joan. Something has happened, and your mother has fainted. We thought we ought to bring her here to you." "Just--just a moment, Kirk," came the tremulous answer, "and I will let you in." There was a brief wait and the sound of running water, as the girl within the room turned on a faucet. Then the door opened, and Joan stood before them. Although it was now almost one o'clock in the morning, she had not taken down her hair for the night; she had, late as it was, not yet retired. Evidently the sound of running water had marked her effort to undo the evidence of tears, but her eyes were red and her face was ghastly! After a first furtive glance her gaze avoided Gilmore's eyes. "You can put her on my bed," she said in a shaking voice, but she did not ask why her mother had fainted. "Something very terrible has happened, Joan," the novelist said hoarsely. "Didn't you hear it?" He had placed his stepmother on the bed and mechanically began to rub her wrists. "Didn't I hear--what?" Joan asked so faintly that her voice was hardly audible. "The pistol shot--just--just a few minutes ago," answered Gilmore. The girl shuddered, her head averted. Her hands were clenched at her sides, and her lower lip was imprisoned between her teeth, obviously in an effort to keep it from trembling. She was making a tremendous effort to keep her self-control. "I did not hear a pistol shot," she said, her voice still very low. "I did not hear any shot. Why do you ask?" "Helen has killed herself, Joan; she shot herself with a pistol."