"What do you want?"
"An explanation."
"Quite so," said the other coolly. "I'd forgotten that I invited
you here. How long had you been watching me?"
"I saw you only when you came out from behind the house."
"And you wish to know about--about my companion in this place?"
continued the other in an odd tone.
"Yes."
"Understand that I don't admit that you have the smallest right.
But to clear up a situation which no longer exists, I'm ready to
satisfy you. Come in."
He held open the door of the room where the lone light was
burning. In the middle of the floor was spread a sheet, beneath
which a form was outlined in grisly significance. Carroll's host
lifted the cover.
The woman was white-haired, frail, and wrinkled. One side of her
face shone in the lamplight with a strange hue, like tarnished
silver. In her throat was a small bluish wound; opposite it a
gaping hole.
"Shot!" exclaimed Carroll. "Who did it?"
"Some high-minded Caracunan patriot, I suppose."
"Why?"
"Well, I suspect that it was a mistake. From a distance and inside
a window, she might easily have been taken for some one else.
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