But there was something else; and in his befogged mental state the comparison eluded him. “You blithering idiot!” he exclaimed. “I want to ask you a question,” he said. So appalling was the sight, that even the murderers—familiar as they were with scenes of slaughter,—looked aghast at it. ‘And why have you not arrested him? Do not tell me you have allowed him to escape you. I don't ask you to supply my place—for that is, perhaps, impossible. Glad did I live and gladly die, And I laid me down with a will. One never knew when it would be necessary to resume her disguise. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used.
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