IX
THE NAMELESS HORROR
It was the first time we had had any freedom since our arrival. Ren had not returned with Jim. If the king were really dead, there would be a great confusion at the castle. They might be detained indefinitely.
Sonya would not wait. “A few hours only,” she urged. “Then we will be back. I will leave a message for my cousin and your friend.”
The first shock of Dr. Weatherby’s death was over. There was no advantage in the girls remaining here.
We started finally. On the lower floor of the house we found long dark cloaks and donned them, with a queerly flat, mound-shaped hat for me and light scarfs to cover the girls’ heads. The lower door was open. Ren had left it so, knowing that Sonya would stay with us.
Technically we were prisoners. But Sonya paid scant ceremony to that now. The king was dead: our oath of allegiance to the nation would be taken for granted.
“My allegiance goes to you,” Dolores said naively. “You girls.”
Alice nodded.
“Yes,” said Sonya. “But do not say so openly. And you, my friend, Leonard—you are a man—be careful what you say if you have any sympathy for our cause.”
Sympathy! How mild a word, as again visions of what she had told us sprang before me!