was near, she took the letter into the kitchen. Apparently her
unwelcome guest had not stirred. The revolver was where he had
laid it.

"Read this," she said.

The visitor glanced through it. "It is Gregor's hand. Poor old
chap! I shall never forgive my self."

"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."