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MacGrath, Harold, 1871-1932

"Arms and the Woman"

Dressed as
I am, who would recognize me? No one at the castle, for there is no
one there but the steward. Would you send me away?"
"God forbid! But this American? You say you can read faces; how about
the other one?"
Silence.
"Yes; how about him?"
Said Gretchen: "We are not infallible. And perhaps I was then much to
blame."
"No; we are not infallible; that is the reason why you should take no
chance," was the final argument of the innkeeper.
"Hush!" said Gretchen.
"Confound the pipe!" I muttered. It had fallen over the window sill.
Five minutes passed; I heard no sound. Glancing from the side of the
window I saw that Gretchen and the innkeeper were gone.
Yes, there wasn't any doubt about it; Gretchen was a conspirator. The
police were hunting for her, and she was threatened with discovery. It
was beyond my imagination what she could have done. Moreover, she was
rather courting danger; the military post was only five miles down the
river. The one thing which bothered me was the "him" who had suddenly
intruded upon the scene, invisible, but there, like Banquo's ghost.


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