"Don't telephone," said Hammon, huskily. "You must do just as I
say, understand? This mustn't get out, do you hear? I'm not--hurt.
I'm all right, but--fetch Bob. Don't let him call a doctor,
either, until I--get home. Now hurry--please."

Lorelei rushed to the outside door, restraining with difficulty a
wild impulse to run screaming through the hall of the apartment
building and so arouse the other tenants. But the wounded man's
instructions had been terse and forceful, therefore she held
herself in check. Fortunately, the hall-man was not at his post,
or without doubt he would have read tragedy in her demeanor. With
skirts gathered high and breath sobbing in her throat, the girl
fled up the stair to her own door, where she clung, ringing the
bell frantically.

She could hear Bob's--her husband's voice inside, raised in the
best of humor. Evidently he was telephoning.

"Yes. Two hours ago, I tell you. With book, bell, and candle.
Sure, I'm happy--couldn't be otherwise, for I'm drunk and married.
I knew you'd be glad. What? No; glad because I'm married."

Jim's footsteps sounded, his hand opened the door, then his arm
flew out to his sister's support as she staggered in.

"SIS! What the devil?" he cried, aghast at sight of her.

"Something--dreadful."

Bob continued his cheerful colloquy over the wire. "Just got in