“Stand up!” she said, cocking her weapon.
The boy, half stupefied, struggled to his knees, then managed to rise.
“Go forward along that path!”
For a full minute he stood erect, motionless, eyes fixed on her; then shame stained him to the temples; he turned, head bent, and walked forward, wrists tightly tied behind him.
And behind him, weapon swinging, followed the Special Messenger in her rags, pallid, disheveled, her dark eyes dim with pity.
