As they paused the woman shivered. Some premonition of what was about to happen got hold of her, and struck terror to her heart. She stood staring now, unable to move. A hideous fascination seemed to paralyze her. The next thing that reached her comprehension was that James was speaking in a harsh metallic voice. She had never heard him speak like that before, and her fears swiftly increased as his words floated in through the open window. "Now, you skunk," he was saying, "you guess you're man enough to run this lay-out. You guess you're a bigger man than me. You guess you got me squealin' around like a suckin' kid. You! An' I took you out o' jail, wher' they was goin' to set you swingin'. Gee! I could tell you a heap, but I ain't no time talkin' to bastards of your kidney. Swingin's too good fer sech as you. Anyway, when I got work to do I do it myself. Here, you, Ned, an' you, Sully, stand aside!" She saw the two men withdraw. She wanted to scream, without quite knowing why. But no sound came. Her eyes were starting out of her head with the horror of what she knew to be about to happen. But she had no power to stir hand or foot. She saw James move forward. She saw the bloodless, horror-stricken face of the prisoner. She saw him stumble as he attempted to move away. There was no escape. James moved forward with body crouching, and strides that covered the intervening space with almost feline stealth. He came right up to the man, his gun leading. She heard a report and one dreadful cry of terror and pain. She saw Conroy crumple and fall writhing upon the ground. She saw the blood streaming from his stomach. Then the further horror came to her staring eyes as she saw James stand over his victim and fire shot after shot into the hideous, writhing heap. But the limit was reached. With one wild scream she turned away and flung herself upon her bed; and the next moment everything mercifully became a blank to her. That was on the Sunday morning. She saw nothing of what followed. She knew nothing until she awoke some two hours later to the haunting vision of the scene she had witnessed. And ever since it had clung to her--clung like an obsession, a mental parasite sapping her nerve, her very reason. Nor had she power to disassociate herself from it. And now she was waiting in an agony of mind for the murderer's return. Not only was she waiting for his return, but she expected to see him bearing in his arms one of her own innocent children. The thought of little Vada in his arms drove her frantic. Her innocent little Vada in the arms of this cold-blooded assassin!