Grimm mutely, with arms outstretched. The revolver barrel clicked
under his hand, then, after a moment, he replaced the weapon in his
pocket.
"Please open the door," he requested quietly.
"He'll kill you!" she screamed.
Exhausted, helpless, she leaned against a chair with her face in her
hands. Mr. Grimm went to her suddenly, tore the hands from her face, and
met the tear-stained eyes.
"I love you," he said. "I want you to know that!"
"And I love you--that's why it matters so."
Leaving her there, Mr. Grimm strode straight to the door and threw it
open. He saw only the outline of a thin little man of indeterminate age,
then came a blinding flash under his eyes, and he leaped forward. There
was a short, sharp struggle, and both went down. The revolver! He must
get that! He reached for it with the one idea of disarming this madman.
The muzzle was thrust toward him, he threw up his arm to protect his
head, and then came a second flash. Instantly he felt the figure in his
arms grow limp; and after a moment he rose. The face of the man on the
floor was pearly gray; and a thin, scarlet thread flowed from his
temple.
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