“I did not mean to startle you,” Mitchell spoke contritely, alarmed by her pallor. “I thought that you had heard the news.”
“I have heard nothing—” she spoke rapidly, clipping her words. “There was nothing in the morning paper—”
“No, we didn’t give it out to the press.”
“Then how did you expect me to know anything of the shooting?”
“I thought Miss Kitty Baird might have telephoned to you—” Mitchell was watching her closely. “She didn’t, eh?”
“No.” Mrs. Parsons sat back more comfortably in her car. “Was Mr. Rodgers killed?”
Mitchell shook his head. “Seriously injured,” he said soberly. “It’s a bad business.”
“How did the shooting occur?” she asked. The car had stopped before the lower entrance to the Munitions Building, but Mrs. Parsons motioned to her chauffeur to wait as he started to open the car door.
“Oh, some one was skylarking in Rock Creek Park and shot Mr. Rodgers as he and Miss Kitty Baird were motoring home last night,” explained Mitchell. “Another case of an innocent bystander.”
“It was an accident, then.” Mrs. Parsons raised her scented handkerchief and touched her lips. “I thought—it just occurred to me that he might have tried suicide.”