“Wait!” Theodore closed the door, exclaiming in white heat, “Molly, where are those papers?”
“In my room,” replied Molly sulkily.
Mr. King gave the order, and again they were behind closed doors. Molly made a sorry picture of shame when Theodore looked at her.
“I’ll get to the bottom of this if it kills me,” he said wearily.
“Theo, Theo, don’t read the papers!” she gasped. Then she fell forward at his feet. “I love you, dear; I love you.”
“You’ve lost your mind, Molly,” he said harshly. “You’re mad, completely mad.”
“No, I’m not. Listen, Theodore, I’m here at your feet, miserable, unhappy; I want to be forgiven––”
“Then tell me what you did to Jinnie Grandoken.”
“I can’t! I can’t!”
When another knock sounded on the door, Theodore 350 opened it and took the papers through the smallest imaginable crack. Molly crawled to a chair and leaned her head upon the seat. Without a word, Theodore sat down and began to turn the pages of the papers nervously. As he read both accounts of Lafe’s trial, bitter ejaculations fell from his lips. The story of Bobbie’s dramatic death and Morse’s suicide brought forth a groan. When he placed the papers slowly beside him on the floor, Molly raised her face, white and torn with grief.