Mechanically he arose from the bed and stumbled onto the floor.
"It tells me to kill, kill!" he mumbled. "Kill with my revolver. Kill—who shall I kill?"
Burke silently followed the plodding form of the other. With measured steps Hayden stalked to the stairs and passed down, with Burke close behind.
Hayden led the way directly to the room of his sister and niece. Without hesitating, his fingers grasping a loaded "Billy," Burke trailed close and waited for the moment when he should be needed.
Hayden appeared unconscious of the light furnished by Burke's torch, nor did he once turn on the short journey. Reaching the side of the bed in which the women were sleeping, he paused and stared rigidly down.
Burke joined him. His light was now on the two women. He was struck by the horrible contortions of the faces, seemingly drawn in agony.
With a sudden premonition, he bent down and felt the motionless forms. The girl's hand was limp and lifeless. He felt the pulse of the older woman.
Both were dead!
The detective turned to Hayden.
He was staring down, dry-eyed.
"I see," he said stupidly, "both dead. Kill, kill—who was I to kill? Not them. They're dead. Something still tells me to kill!" He sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands.
Burke lit a lamp that stood on a heavy dresser and put out the torch. He stood looking down at the two women. He then noted that the room was growing shadowy. He glanced at the lamp. It was full of oil and the wick seemed to be burning freely, yet the light continued to lower.
Burke again glanced at the two women. Slowly, almost invisibly, he fancied that the agonized features were changing to the repose of death.
Hayden arose and came to the detective's side. He was muttering and softly moaning. Burke watched him.
Hayden, with a sudden start, looked across the room.
"They're coming back!" he mumbled, "weaving and twisting."
His eyes moved slowly from the opposite side of the room as if he were following some moving object. They came to rest on the women's faces.
"Streaming down their mouths!" he muttered. "They're sucking in the twisting rolls. They're coming to life!"
Burke glanced at the women. In the dim light he could have sworn that he saw traces of returning life. At that moment there came a crashing report at his side and a blinding flash.
With that, the light flared up bright, and the dead faces were revealed. Burke whirled around.
Hayden was sinking to the floor, a bullet hole in his head, from which the blood was slowly starting to emerge. Burke sank beside the man and lifted his head.
Slowly the heavy form relaxed. Hayden opened his eyes to stare with bewilderment at the detective.
In another moment he was dead.
Burke placed the body on the floor and went to the bed. Once again he endeavored to find a trace of pulse in the still forms. Both were lifeless. He fancied that both dead faces bore a peaceful look, and on the elder woman's slightly-opened lips there seemed to hover an exultant smile.
Closing the room, Burke got his coat and belongings, then locked up the house. Some hours later he was sitting with the Chief of Police, relating the tragedy. The Chief drove with Burke to the Sheriff of the county, and together they went to the house. The Sheriff had called up a coroner, and they found him waiting for them.
A brief examination of the women revealed that both had died of heart failure, probably induced by some unexplainable shock. Burke took the Sheriff aside. On the detective's suggestion, they wrecked the attic room in a thorough search. Burke wanted to locate the source of the dropping blood.
At the conclusion of their quest the mystery was finished, for Burke. But it was to Rhyne that he confessed his failure.
