Dr. Anna was sitting up and smiling. She waved his apologies and protestations aside. "I can't think what came over me to collapse like that. Once or twice lately I have thought I might be getting something. I'll have my blood taken to-morrow. Now, I'll go home and get to bed quick, although that coffee has made me feel as fine as a fiddle."
"Well, I needed it too, and for more reasons than you. Say—" Mr. Houston had risen and was pulling nervously at his short and bosky beard. "I got a 'phone from Mrs. Gifning a while ago. You're wanted at the Balfames—bad."
Dr. Anna sprang to her feet, her full cheeks pale again. "Enid! What has happened to her?"
"Oh, she's all right, I guess. It's Dave—"
"Oh, another gastric attack?"
"Worse and more of it. He was shot—two or three hours ago, I guess. I didn't ask the time—was in too big a hurry to get back to Aggie—at his own gate, though, I think she said."
"Who did it?"
"Nobody knows."
"Dead?"
"No one'll ever be deader."