‘Could she have been a spy, after all?’ ‘Oh, she’s not a spy,’ Gerald answered, almost absently. She found it rather funny that he always wore the shirt fastidiously tucked in and never wore the ensemble without a stiff brown leather belt. Through yet another doorway she observed an ancient silk brocade loom. He looked fiercely and inquiringly from one to the other of his companions; but, though both of them were excessively frightened, neither appeared guilty. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. My mother died the day I was born; that’s what they tell me. Unfortunately, I have little detail of the circumstances which surrounded the birth of the girl, and her subsequent removal to France.
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