strange, almost ludicrous expression of surprise was on his face;
he was staring down at his breast; the revolver lay on the floor
between him and Lilas.

Lorelei gasped an incoherent question, but neither of the two who
faced each other appeared to hear it or to notice her presence in
the room.

"I told you to--keep off," Lilas chattered. Her eyes were fixed
upon Hammon, but her out-flung arms were pressed against the
support at her back as if she felt herself growing weak. "You did
it--yourself. I warned you."

The man merely remained motionless, staring. But there was
something shocking in the paralysis that held him and fixed his
face in that distorted mold of speechless amazement. Finally he
stirred; one hand crept inside his waistcoat, then came away red;
he turned, walked to a chair, and half fell upon it. Then he saw
Lorelei's face, and her agonized question took shape out of the
whirling chaos in his mind.

"Where's Bob?" he said, faintly. "Call him, please."

"You're--hurt. I'll telephone for a doctor; there's one in the
house, and--and the police, too." Lorelei voiced her first
impulse, then shrilly appealed to Lilas to do something. But Lilas
remained petrified in her attitude of retreat; from the pallor
that was whitening her cheeks now it might have been she who was
in danger of death.