She was standing in the patio with Custer, at sunset, within call of Eva’s room, as they had all been during the entire day, when a car drove up along the south drive and stopped at the patio entrance. Three of the four men in it alighted and advanced toward them.
“You are Custer Pennington?” one of them asked.
Pennington nodded.
“And you are Miss Burke—Miss Shannon Burke?”
“I am.”
“I am a deputy sheriff. I have a warrant here for your arrest.”
“Arrest!” exclaimed Custer. “For what?”
He read the warrant to them. It charged them with the murder of Wilson Crumb.
“I am sorry, Mr. Pennington,” said the deputy sheriff; “but I have been given these warrants, and there is nothing for me to do but serve them.”
“You have to take us away now? Can’t you wait—until—my sister is dying in there. Couldn’t it be arranged so that I could stay here under arrest as long as she lives?”