face worked evilly.

"He had a talk with me, too," he said. "It's come to a showdown. No use
talking about waiting, Bella. It's now or never. You've held me off too
long. Got to choose. We love each other."

He advanced. She stepped behind the table.

"Don't come any nearer, Freddy. What's the matter with you?"

He laughed.

"Just you."

He tapped the side pocket of his coat.

"By gad! I'd have killed him to-night to get to you if it had been
necessary. That's what you've done to me, Bella."

He reached across and grasped her arm. He held her tight while he glided
around the table. A book fell to the floor, and another. A vase of roses
toppled over and shattered musically. The flowers made brilliant patches
on the dull carpet.

"Let me go. Listen, Freddy! We'll talk it over to-morrow--all three. I
promised John I wouldn't see you to-night."

"Tomorrow!" he laughed. "Too late. You don't know all I've done for
this--a real sportin' proposition. I tell you it's now or never, and I'm
mad about you."

He got his arm around her.

"You've got to let me keep my promise."

Still laughing, he drew her closer. His flaming eyes were near. His
breath was revolting on her cheeks.

She struggled, gasping for words.

"Let me go. You've been drinking. He said--"

"He said!" he cried furiously.

"What are you going to do?" she begged.

As he flung her back against the table the side pocket of his unbuttoned
coat flapped against her hand.

"I'm not going to let you slip now, Bella."

"Freddy! You're killing me!"

She put her hand in his pocket and snatched out an unpolished, stubby,
evil cylinder with a square grip which perfectly fitted her hand.

"Look out, Freddy! You hurt!"

He laughed again. His lips, repulsive and cruel, crushed hers. Her
smothered crying was bitter.

An explosion, slightly muffled, crowded the room with sound. Another
followed.

His lips, a moment ago masterful with unreasoning vitality, no longer
troubled her.

"Freddy!" she sobbed. "I'm sorry--"

He crumpled at her feet.

Near the water, spilled from the vase of roses, a darker stain spread.

She screamed.

"What's the matter? Freddy! I'm sorry--Say something--Pray!"

She stumbled to her knees by the dead man. Her desolate cries fled
ceaselessly through the open window.

CHAPTER VI

A CRYING THROUGH THE SILENCE

Garth the next day did not repeat his floral indiscretion. One
experience had convinced him that