CHAPTER XXXIX

THE GET-AWAY DEARBORN slipped the revolver in his pocket, unlocked the door and stepped out. The little man who acted as porter was standing, his mouth agape. “What’s wrong?” he said quickly. “Who’s shooting?” “Go out and fetch the police,” said John Dearborn calmly. “Somebody has been killed.” “Oh, my heaven!” whispered the little man. “There are two policemen at the end of the road. Hurry,” said John Dearborn sharply, and listened to the flip-flap of the messenger’s slippers as he shuffled up the street. Dearborn…