"There are plenty of shots—for you, at the first noise, and for the servants, if they come," she went on in that fierce undertone, and then, passionately, "What did you do to him? Take me to him—at once!"
Irresolutely the man stood and looked up at her under his half-lowered lids. He was near enough for a spring—and yet if that excited finger should press.... The girl was capable of anything. She was possessed.... And men had died of such accidents before that....
"May I speak?" he murmured, in a tone scarcely audible, yet preserving somehow its flavor of sardonic amusement.
"Under your breath. One sound, remember—and I am a very good shot."
"But what a wife," he sighed. "All the talents—"
"I tell you that I will see him for myself. Take me to him, this moment—"
"Shall I give orders and have him brought here? He is quite safe, I assure you."
"Orders? If you summon a servant I will shoot. No, lead the way, and I will follow you. And if you make one sound—one false move—"
Decidedly the girl was possessed. She stood there like a white image of war, her hand on that infernal automatic.... He hesitated, gnawed his mustache, then swung sullenly upon his heel.
Like some fantastic sculpture from an Amazonian triumph, they crossed the long drawing-room, the erect, gilt-braided general preceding, very slowly, the white-clad feminine creature, who held one hand extended, with something boring almost into his shoulder blades.