" "Nothing in the pockets. In any event, I would not have let her escape me so easily. She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. She shut the door behind her. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. " The doctor sent her a sharp, quizzical glance. There would be no way of keeping her police questioning a secret from the entire neighborhood. But to plunge blindly into the unknown!" "I had to! I had to!" She had told him only the first part of her story.
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