glare of the lamp. And then I heard the butler catch his breath, and suddenly her voice trailed off in wonder and pitiful disappointment.
"It's not Gervase! It's Reg—Mr. Travers. I beg your pardon. I thought"
But I passed up the steps and stood before her: and said, as she drew back—
"There has been an accident. Gervase has shot himself." I turned to the butler. "You had better run to the police station. Stay: take this revolver. It won't count anything as evidence: but I ask you to examine it and make sure all the chambers are loaded."
A thud in the hall interrupted me. I ran in and knelt beside Elaine, and as I stooped to lift her—as my hand touched her hair—this was the jealous question on my lips—
"What has she to do with it. It is I who cannot do without him—who must miss him always!"
