’ Melusine looked from his coarse red features to the pistol, and froze inside as she recognised his intention. Ennison listened, and his eyes glowed. It is the only way. “Not for these things, O Ann Veronica, have you revolted,” it said; “and this is not your appropriate purpose. “Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. All at once she became aware of sounds outside. She grew perhaps a shade paler, and she glanced out into the street, where her four-wheeler cab, laden with luggage, was still waiting.
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