gate, than of the silent form below. Then I crept down the steps, until I touched the stone slabs at the bottom of the cellar. I had to feel about blindly in the darkness to locate the fellow, but the first touch of his flesh told me he was dead. He lay at full length, his head curled to one side, his neck broken. I could feel the buttons on his uniform blouse, the bulge of his cartridge belt. Without a word I crawled back into the open air, and got a glimpse of her frightened face.
"The fellow is dead," I said softly. "We have no cause to fear him."
"But I did not kill him! Why, I could not; he—he just stepped back, and fell."
"There is no reason why you should worry about that," I urged, taking her hands from before her face, and clasping them in mine. "His death was an accident, although his attack was murderous enough, and he deserved his fate."
"Was—was he a soldier?"
"Yes, an infantry private, I think. Now don't cry. Listen to me, your nerves are all unstrung; this night's work has been too much for you—too much for any girl. And God knows, you have done enough for me already. Where are you stopping? here at the hotel?"
"Y—yes."
