Jordan Morse faced the room, with its silent, observant crowd, pressing to his breast the dead body of his child. Then he turned to Lafe, white, twitching, and suffering.
“I shot Maudlin Bates,” he said, haltingly; then turning to the jury he continued: “The cobbler’s an innocent man––”
A menacing groan fell from a hundred lips at his words.
He deliberately took from his hip pocket a revolver, lifted the weapon and finished:
“I’m—I’m sorry, Jinnie, I’m––”
Then came the sharp, short bark of the gun, and the bullet found a path to his brain. He staggered, frantically clutching the slender body of Bobbie closer—and toppled over.