They opened before him and he entered, the policeman at his heels. A man took his burden quickly as he sank on the bench, and disappeared through a small door at the end of the hall. A gong clanged twice in quick succession, then once more, and as if in answer two white-jacketed men came down the stairs, passed across the hall, and vanished into the room where the first man had gone. A silence fell over the place. The big clock against the staircase ticked resoundingly. The policeman leaned back against the wall and examined the man huddled there upon the bench with curious glance.
"After a time long as eternity, one of the white-jacketed men came out into the hall and stood in front of Morton. Morton looked up at him in a great question, but the man did not seem to see it.
"'Er, er,' he drawled, as if embarrassed. Then suddenly, 'Who shot her?'
"'I did,' answered Morton.
"'Er, er—with what?'
"'Mauser—pistol—thirty-eight.'
"'Yes, yes,' acquiesced the man. 'And how old did you say she was?'
"'For Christ's sake,' broke out Morton, in sudden cry; 'how is she; is she dead; is there any hope?'
"'Why, yes; of course, she is dead,' answered the man, as if shocked that there should be any doubt
