ing. She moved her tongue over her dry lips, and struggled to
explain.

"Now we understand perfectly!" Doctor Studdiford said soothingly. "He
shot himself, poor fellow. I'm going to take care of him, do you see?
Just keep _still_, Aunt Sanna, or we'll have a crowd here. Aunt Sanna, do
you want this to get into the papers?" For Miss Toland's surmises were
delivered at a sort of shriek.

"Oo--oo--oo!" shuddered Julia, fearful eyes on the assembly room door.
"He was--we were just talking--"

"Is he dead, Jim?" asked Miss Toland fearfully.

"I think so. I'm going to call the hospital for an ambulance, anyway."
Doctor Studdiford was all brisk authority.

"But what ever possessed him?" shrilled Miss Toland again. "Of all
_things_!"

"Had you quarrelled?" asked Jim, keen eyes on Julia as he rattled the
telephone hook.

"No," Julia said shortly, like a child who holds something back. Then
her face wrinkled, and she began to cry. "He wanted to marry me," she
said piteously. "He wanted me to promise! But he always has asked
me--ever since I was fifteen years old, and I always said no!"

"Well, now," Jim said soothingly. "Don't cry. You couldn't help it. Do
you know why he carried a revolver?"

"He has to carry it, his business isn't a very safe one," Julia said
shakily. "He's shown it to me once or twice!" Her voice dropped on a
trembling note, and her eyes were wild with fright.

"Now, Aunt Sanna," said Jim quietly, after telephoning, "I think that
you and Miss Page ought to get out of here. You'll have a raft of
reporters and busybodies here to-morrow. It's a ghastly thing, of
course, and the quieter we keep it the better for every one. I'll manage
my end of it. I'll have as conservative an account as I can in the
papers--simply that he was despondent over a love affair and, in a fit
of temporary aberration--and so on. Could you close this place up for a
week?"

"Certainly!" said Miss Toland, with Spartan promptness, beginning to
enjoy the desperate demand of the hour.

"And could you take that poor child somewhere, out of the public eye?"

"I will indeed, Jim!"

"Well, that's the best way to do. You're a trump, Aunt Sanna! I will say
that Miss Page is naturally prostrated, and gone away to friends."

"Jim, has that poor boy a chance?"

"A chance? No. No; he died instantly. It was straight through the brain.
Yes, terrible--naturally. Now, will you take what you need--"
"Instantly!" said Miss Toland, with a