Ten more long minutes of quiet and silence, and then the stillness was broken by a long, shrill shriek, sounding half a mile distant. It was the night express nearing Trafton station.
As this sound died upon the air, another greeted my ears; the sound of swift feet running heedlessly, hurriedly; coming directly toward me from the southward.
As I rose from my lounging place and stepped to the end of the piazza the runner came abreast of me, and the light streaming through the office window revealed to me Jim Long, hatless, coatless, almost breathless.
The lamp light fell upon me also, and even as he ran he recognized me.
Halting suddenly, he turned back with a quick ejaculation, which I did not understand.
"Long, what has happened?"
The answer came between short, sharp breaths.
"Carl Bethel has been shot down at his own door! For God's sake go to him! He is there alone. I must find a doctor."
