"And be arrested within the hour. Do you know what that will mean for Cassie?"
"What will it mean?"
"You, Havener, will be the one to kill her. The bullet you fire at Sargent will go straight to her heart!"
The wild light in the stage manager's eyes turned to a look of horror. He sank down on a chair and sat there, staring at Frank—staring, staring, staring.
"Now you see it, Havener," Merriwell went on. "You must hold your hand—you must not do this thing."
"Perhaps you are right," came huskily from the half-crazed man. "I had not thought of it that way. I must wait till she is dead. Till she is dead!" he moaned. "Ah, Merriwell, you do not know how I have loved that girl! And now she is going to die!"
"We'll hope not—we'll pray that she does not, Havener."
"We'll pray! No! I've never prayed in my life! I don't know how. But you—Cassie told me you prayed. Merriwell, pray for her—pray for me! There is hell in my heart to-night! I never felt this way before. When I came in there and found my little girl so still and limp—gods! it seemed that something snapped in my head! Since then there has been a buzzing and ringing in my ears. Sometimes it seems that I can hear a great river of blood rushing through my head. I don't know what ails me!"
"You are all wrought up over this affair, Havener; you need time to cool down."
"To cool down! Ha, ha! As if I could cool down if I thought of it! My little sweetheart knocked down and beaten in a most brutal manner! Why, the thought is enough to make a devil of anybody! I won't search for Sargent, but let him keep out of my sight! Let him beware! I shall shoot him on sight!"