So far he got when he heard voices in the hall—the excited voice of a woman, shrill, insistent, hysterical. Before Dick could get to the door, it was flung open, and Lola rushed in.
“Gordon! Gordon! Oh, my God!” she sobbed. “Do you know?”
“Hush!” said Dick, but the girl was beside herself.
“They’ve got Ray! They’re going to hang him! Lew’s dead.”
The mischief was done. Ella came slowly to her feet, rigid with fear.
“My brother?” she asked, and then Lola saw her for the first time and nodded.
“I found out,” she sobbed. “I had a suspicion, and I wrote . . . I’ve got a photograph of Phenan. I knew it was Lew at once, and I guessed the rest. The Frog did it! He planned it; months in advance he planned it. I’m not sorry about Lew; I swear I’m not sorry about Lew! It’s the boy. I sent him to his death, Gordon——” And then she broke into a fit of hysterical sobbing.
“Put her out,” said Gordon, and Elk lifted the helpless girl in his arms and carried her into the dining-room.
“True!” Ella whispered the word, and Dick nodded.
“I’m afraid it’s true, Ella.”