And just as Eva fell at gran’ther’s feet they trooped in behind him and came upon the startling scene.
They all saw how Doctor Ludington was trying to wrest the weapon from his assailant’s hand; they all saw that, just as he grasped Terry’s wrist, turning it aside from himself, the weapon was accidentally discharged.
The bullet buried itself in Terry’s brain.
At the same moment the failing strength of Ludington made him lose his grasp and the antagonists reeled apart, each sinking heavily down, their dying groans mingling on the air of the Hallowe’en night.
The frenzied screams of the women added to the horror of the scene.
The twins had rushed to their brother’s side and knelt down by him, quickly followed by gran’ther, who caught his hand, moaning:
“Poor Terry; poor boy! What is it all about? The fighting? My poor head is dazed.”
He did indeed have a piteous look, as he grasped the hand that was already growing cold in his as Terry Groves, with his eyes fast glazing, made a supreme effort and gasped:
“I was going along the hall to my—room—heard voices—peeped in Eva’s door—Ludington was with her—the vile hussy. To wipe—out—the foul—stain—I shot him! I—I——”
“Oh, Terry, Terry! don’t die!” shrieked Lydia wildly.