Chapter 7

One is of Louis, standing dazedly--slightly swaying as with vertigo--looking down at the smoking revolver in his hand. On the floor before him a crumpled figure in ebony and white and vivid crimson. Then a confusion of frightened men and women in oddly assorted nondescript attire--uniformed officers bursting into the room and taking the revolver from Louis’s unresisting hand--clumsy efforts at lifting the white-robed body to the bed--a crimson stain spreading over the sheet--a doctor, attired in collarless shirt an…