"Quite evident," replied the man.
"Why hurt me more than necessary then?" she demanded.
"This is part of Miss Merri----"
"She loves him too?" cried Jinnie, staggering back.
"Yes, and he--well, you saw his letter yesterday."
"Yes, I saw it," breathed Jinnie with swift coming breath.
"Miss Merriweather thinks Theodore might still feel his obligations to you unless you----"
"Does she know he asked me to marry him?" In spite of her agony, she thrilled in memory.
"Yes, and he told me, too. But Miss Merriweather intends to marry him herself, and all she wants is to wipe thoughts of you from his mind."
A powerful argument swept from her lips.
"It wouldn't make any difference to him about me if he loved her."
"You're an analytical young miss," said Morse with one of his disagreeable smiles.
"You've taught me to be," she retorted, blazing. "Now listen! You asked me if I'd rather have Bobbie die than write the letter, didn't you?"
He nodded.
"Then I say 'yes'." She caught her breath. "We'll both die."
"Well, by God, you're a cool one! Theodore's more lucky than I thought. So that's the way you love him?"
She grew more inexplicable with each passing day.
"Poor Theodore!" murmured Morse, to break the tense silence.
"I thought it all out this morning," explained Jinnie. "Bobbie's awfully ill, terribly. He can't live long anyway, and I----" A terrific sob shook her as a raging gale rends a slender flower.
Jinnie controlled her weeping that the blind child in the other room might not hear. Never had Jordan been so sorely tempted to do a good deed. Good deeds were not habitual to him, but at that moment a desire possessed him to take her in his arms, to soothe her, to restore her to Peggy and give her back to Theodore. But the murder scene in the cobbler's shop came back with strong renewed vigor. He had gone too far, and he must have money. Molly held him in her power, and as he thought of her tightly set lips, the danger signal she had tossed at him more times than once, he crushed dead his better feeling.
"Your plan won't work," he said slowly. "Write the letter--I am in a hurry."
"I will not," she refused him once more.
Morse walked to the door, and she allowed him to open it. Then with clenched hands she tottered after him. He was going to kill Bobbie and herself. Somehow within her tortured being she was glad. Morse waited and looked back, asking her a question silently.
She made no response, however, but cast her eyes upon the blind boy sitting dejectedly upon the floor, one arm around Happy Pete.