And there was a crash!
Jerry was not hurt, nor the other adventurers. The chauffeur was
stunned. But Barry was crumpled up against the stone steps of one of
the funny little houses, and lay there with Leila's letter all red
under him.
It was Porter and Mary who told Leila. The General had begged them to
do it. "I can't," he had said, pitifully. "I've faced guns, but I
can't face the hurt in my darling's eyes."
So Mary's arms were around her when she whispered to the child-wife
that Barry was--dead.
Porter had faltered first something about an accident--that the doctors
were--afraid.
Leila, shaking, had looked from one to the other. "I must go to him,"
she had cried. "You see, I am his wife. I have a right to go."
"His wife?" Of all things they had not expected this.
"Yes, we have been married a year--we ran away."
"When, dear?"
"Last March--to Rockville--and--and we were going to tell everybody the
next day--and then Barry lost his place--and we couldn't."
Oh, poor little widow, poor little child! Mary drew her close.
"Leila, Leila," she whispered, "dear little sister, dear little girl,
we must love and comfort each other."
And then Leila knew.
But they did not tell her how it had happened. The details of that
last ride the woman who loved him need never know. Barry was to be her
hero always.