Page:Flying Death.pdf/107

 She walked a little ahead of me on the narrow path with her head bent down; but she saw nothing on the ground, for she stumbled over a root. I snatched forward and caught her and held her trembling in my hands.

"He killed them; he killed them; he's been killing them!" she cried to me, as I turned her toward me.

"Yes," I said.

"All four?"

I knew whom she meant—our two pilots and the army man and the mail flyer.

"I haven't a doubt of it," I told her.

She twisted, tensely; not with any effort to escape me; it was a convulsive shudder which my hands helped her to control.

"This morning, just before I talked to you, he tried to kill you."

"Not me; Logan," I corrected her. "He'd just smashed Logan down."

"I see that's what you meant; that's what you were talking about."

"Yes."

"How did he do it? How?"

I saw in her grey eyes and I felt in her,