I thought my sister and her murdered husband dragged me hither, to this very room, and commanded you to slay me. And a ballot-box—” Her face assumed an expression of intellectual conflict. And who knew if the men that Gerald had posted there would follow her to protect her somewhere else? In truth, where were these soldiers? She could not see them, although she assiduously searched the mist-shrouded square from the vantage point of the bay window in the large first floor room which had become her headquarters. There are boats on the lake and shady depths and wildernesses of pine-wood. But she was not there. Outside the door stood one of the soldiers. “I don’t care a rap for remembering.
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