"Mother," said Don, "that's right! It must have been just about one o'clock, wasn't it?"
She looked at him steadily for a time, as she dropped the receiver, her own face a trifle pale. "Yes—we hadn't gone to sleep at the time it happened. He was killed right in front of his own house, Miss Julia says."
"And where is that?—you see, I don't know much about the town."
"Beyond the square, about three blocks from the farther corner—the little house with the low fence in front, and the deep front yard."
"We didn't pass that when we came up from the station?"
"No, we came another street. But, Don——"
"Yes?"
"When you were running last night, you must have passed right close to there! You didn't see anything strange?"
"Of course not! I'd have looked into it. I don't recall that particular house.
"Well," he added, after a moment's silence, "in spite of all that happened yesterday between him and us, I'm not going to call him anything but a good man—now."