ALONE IN THE SHOP
Later in the day Jordan Morse and Molly Merriweather met at the hospital. They looked into each other’s eyes, not daring to mention the terrible consternation that possessed them.
“Have you heard anything?” murmured Molly, glancing about before speaking.
Jordan nodded his head.
“It’s awful,” he said. “Bates is dead—if you say a word, I’m lost.”
“Depend on me,” Molly assured him. “Oh, how dreadful it all is! Theodore must get well,” she continued in agitation.
“Well, he won’t!” snarled Morse. Then he went on passionately. “Molly, I swear I didn’t intend to shoot him. I was mad clear through and aimed at the cobbler.”
“Hush!” warned Molly. “Some one’s coming.”
A young doctor approached them with gravity.
“Mr. King?” murmured Molly.