Another shout, and still another, farther
away.
"Quick!" screamed Alix, the first to recover her voice. "The
telephone! Call the drug store. Bill Foss is there."
She ran swiftly out into the hall.
"Come back!" cried Mrs. Strong. "What are you doing? Don't open
that door! He's got a pistol, Alix!"
Even as she spoke, the report of a pistol shot came to their ears.
As Alix stopped short, her hand outstretched to clutch the door
knob, a second report came.
"Oh, my God!" she cried. "He has killed Courtney! He has shot
Courtney!"
By this time, her companion had reached her side. She dragged her
back from the door.
"Killed Courtney? What's the matter with you? Why do you say he
has killed--"
"Don't you see--can't you understand? It was Courtney who surprised
him. That's why he ran. He shot,--oh, let go of me! Let go of me,
I say!"
"I'll do nothing of the sort," cried Mrs. Strong. "Do you want to
get shot? Come away from this door!"
A door slammed against the wall at the back of the house. Some
one came running through the dining-room. First the cook, then the
little waitress, dashed into the hall.
"Wha-what is it? What's the matter?" shouted the former. "What was
that shootin'--"
"Where is Stevens?" demanded Mrs. Strong, as she fairly pushed Alix
into the living-room. "Call him! Isn't he out there in--"
"He went out,--half hour ago,--out," stuttered the waitress.
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