in the place. You see, I've got to get out and pull my weight down
there."

So he had left her. He had left her to a punishment more desperate than
anything he could have designed. Her windows looked out over the mill.
And a subtle force attracted her thereto, and held her sleepless and
despairing the whole night long. She had been forced to sit there
watching the tragedy being enacted. A tragedy with which she knew she
was connected, and for which, in her exaggerated self-condemnation, she
believed herself responsible.

The agony of that prolonged vigil would never be forgotten. Fascinated,
dreading, every act of it seared the girl's soul as with a red hot
brand. It was the Skandinavia's work. The agents of the Skandinavia. And
she knew that she, perhaps, was their principal agent. The rattle of
machine guns. The human slaughter. She had witnessed the terror of it
all in the fierce light of the conflagration which looked to be
devouring the whole world of the mills. She could never forget it. She
could never forgive herself her share in the ghastly plans for that
hideous destruction. But more than all she knew she could never forgive,
or again associate herself with those who had designed the inhuman work
of it all and plunged her into the maelstrom of its execution.

Now, in the daylight, she was still at the window. There was no relief.
On the contrary. With the smoke cleared from the smouldering ruins she
saw the full extent of the wreckage. It was sprawling everywhere, human
and material. An army of men, it seemed, was searching the battlefield.
It was searching and collecting amongst the ruins. And she watched the
bearing away on improvised stretchers, of still, helpless, human burdens
which none could mistake. She could bear no more of it. She shut out the
sight and fled from the window, covering her eyes with her hands.

But she was recalled almost instantly. The sound of men's rough voices
startled her. Whence came the sound she could not judge. But it seemed
to her it was from somewhere outside. So she stealthily peered out. It
was a small group of fur-clad figures. They were approaching the house
over the snowy trail that came up from the mill.

New terror leapt. They were supporting a prone, human body! They were
bringing it up to the house! Who--who could they be bringing up to that
house, which was the home and the office of the master of the mill? In
that supreme moment all that which had gone before