And at night, while he
was at the mill, Rudolph sat and dozed and kept watch below. Twice
a day some meager provisions were left at the top of the stairs and
her door was unlocked. She would creep out and get them, not
because she was hungry, but because she meant to keep up her strength.
Let their vigilance slip but once, and she meant to be ready.
She learned to interpret every sound below. There were times when
the fumes from burning food came up the staircase and almost
smothered her. And there were times, she fancied, when Herman
weakened and Rudolph talked for hours, inciting and inflaming him
again. She gathered, too, that Gus's place was under surveillance,
and more than once in the middle of the night stealthy figures came
in by the garden gate and conferred with Rudolph down-stairs. Then,
one evening, in the dusk of the May twilight, she saw three of them
come, one rather tall and military of figure, and one of them
carried, very carefully, a cheap suitcase.
She knew what was in that suitcase.
Pages:
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484