The door of the room opened, and Goatry stepped inside softly. He had work to do, if need be, and his face showed it. Halbeck did not see him.
There was a demon in Halbeck’s eyes, as his brother stood, his back turned, taking his chances. A large mirror hung on the wall opposite Halbeck. Goatry was watching Halbeck’s face in the glass, and saw the danger. He measured his distance.
All at once Halbeck caught Goatry’s face in the mirror. The dark devilry faded out of his eyes. His lips moved in a whispered oath. Every way was blocked.
With a sudden wild resolution he raised the pistol to his head. It cracked, and he fell back heavily in the chair. There was a red trickle at the temple.
He had chosen the best way out.
“He had the pluck,” said Goatry, as Foyle swung round with a face of misery.
A moment afterward came a rush of people. Goatry kept them back.
“Sergeant Foyle arrested Halbeck, and Halbeck’s shot himself,” Goatry explained to them.
A white-faced girl with a scar on her temple made her way into the room.
“Come away-come away, Jo,” said the voice of the man she loved; and he did not let her see the lifeless figure in the chair.