They’re hot after me. Look out for yourself.—Philip.
In that first interval she did not cry out for help, did not rush out of the room in search of assistance, but remained kneeling over her father’s body. Horror she experienced, but it faded. Even the reality of that fear-distorted dead face could not make fast the grip of horror.... She breathed deep, and it was a breath of relief. He was dead, her father was dead.... She threw back her head and closed her eyes.... She was glad, glad, glad!... Now she was free. When no help seemed possible, when there was none to intervene, when hope was dead, something had intervened.... She was awed by the thought.... Had God Himself intervened? Was this a manifestation of Divine power? She believed it, and, believing it, was glad.... God ruled the world. In spite of wars and butcheries, of crimes and treacheries, in spite of horrors and catastrophes, God still sat omnipotent in His heaven, all-knowing, all-perceiving, biding His moment.... The world was safe in His keeping....
She was free! Free at last. Free from the dreadful thing which had gripped her, encircled her.... This thing that lay before her had been her father, and he had defiled her, daubed her with the pitch of his own crimes and treacheries.... Well, the defilement was burned away; she felt uplifted, purified, purified by fire sent from heaven, by the flame that had stricken Herman von Essen to death. She was herself, untrammeled at last.... Free!... Free!...
Presently she went to the door and called. There was no answer. She rang; no one responded to the bell. The house was strangely silent.... She waited, called again, and then went in search of help. From room to room she went, calling, but there was none to answer. Not a servant remained. All had fled.... She was alone, alone in the house with that which lay outstretched on the library floor.
CHAPTER XXVI
On this day of all days dignitaries from Washington must appear to inspect the aeroplane accomplishments of the Waite Motor Company. Potter chafed and treated himself to a scorching remark or two, but there was nothing for it but to give them his attention. It meant only delay. No suspicions were aroused and little was to be risked by putting off action for a few hours. But Potter was not one who liked to procrastinate; if he erred, it was toward the other extreme.... At noon he was able to turn the dignitaries over to his father.
With the return of the men to work after their dinner-hour he called his secretary.
“Have a machinist named Harker sent to me. Then find Downs, and bring him here yourself.”
The young man went out, and Potter waited with rising impatience and not without excitement. Angling for spies is a pastime likely to stir the blood.
In fifteen minutes Downs appeared, but not Harker.