Danilo roused himself with a supreme effort, crouched low, narrowed his eyes. Claire was dead! What did it matter?... No, it was too late. He lifted the pistol slowly but surely. Stillman gave one startled look and, throwing his head back, seemed to say:
"Why don't you shoot? I am waiting."
Danilo looked down at the shining weapon. It was on a level with his own heart. Claire was dead! Deliberately he turned the muzzle upon himself.... The noise of the shot sounded far away. He felt Stillman's arms enfold him.
"What have you done? What have you done?... My God! but this is a mistake!"
He heard Stillman's voice trembling with passionate protest. He opened his eyes.
"My brother!" he said, and he lifted his hand to Stillman's wet brow.... "My brother!" he felt himself murmur once more.... Suddenly he was swallowed up in a merciful oblivion.
CHAPTER XV
"I have tried to get you by telephone without success. Danilo is asking for you. I shall call with the machine at three-thirty."
Claire Robson dismissed the messenger-boy. Her heart was beating quickly. She folded the note and climbed up-stairs. Danilo is asking for you.... What tragedy and pathos lay in these simple words! She had been waiting for just this moment ever since Stillman had said to her: