He had seen and had
waited to make sure that it was she who stood there peering forth.
"Well, I'm here," he said in a hoarse, restrained whisper. "Have you
heard what's happened?"
"They are not pursuing you? What is it, Tom?"
"Grand has been murdered, Mary!"
For a full minute they stood as motionless as statues, he listening
for the footstep that had been in his ears for days, she stunned by
the appalling news. Her voice was shrill with agony when she finally
broke the silence--agony, despair, horror, all combined in one bitter
cry.
"_You promised me you wouldn't do that!_"
"Sh! Be careful," he whispered, coming close to her side. "I _didn't_
do it, Mary,--so help me, I _didn't!_ Wait! Listen to me! I'm telling
you the truth." She had fallen back against the wall of the building.
Her breathing was quick, as if horror was strangling her. "They caught
the murderers,--a couple of gamblers at Broadso's, I heard. I didn't
hear much about it. The newsboys were shouting it over in Broadway half
an hour ago. I bought a paper, but it gave no details,--except that he
is dead."
"He is dead? Oh, Tom, Tom, you _do_ swear to me that you had no hand in
it.
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