"Read this," she said.
The visitor glanced through it. "It is Gregor's hand. Poor old chap! I shall never forgive myself."
"For what?"
"For dragging him into this. They must have intercepted one of my telegrams." He stared dejectedly at the strip of oilcloth in front of the range. "You are an American?"
"Yes."
"God has been exceedingly kind to your country. I doubt if you will ever know how kind. I'll take myself off. No sense in compromising you." He laid a folded handkerchief inside his cap which he put on. "Know anything about this?"—indicating the revolver.
"Nothing whatever."
"Permit me to show you. It is loaded; there are five bullets in the clip. See this little latch? So, it is harmless. So, and you kill with it."
"It is horrible!" cried Kitty. "Take it with you please. I could not keep my eyes open to shoot it."
"These are troublous times. All women should know something about small arms. Again I thank you. For your own sake I trust that we may never meet again. Good-bye." He stepped out of the window and vanished.
Kitty, at a mental impasse, could only stare into
