e was not at
all daunted by the thought of the deaths that would follow. That was
war. Anything that killed and destroyed was fair in war. But he did not
care to place himself in danger. Let those young hot-heads do the work.

Rudolph, watching him, bided his time. The ground was plowed and
harrowed, ready for the seed, and Rudolph had only to find the seed.

The night he had carried Anna into the cottage on the hill, he had found
it.

Herman had not beaten Anna. Rudolph had carried her up to her bed, and
Herman, following slowly, strap in hand, had been confronted by the
younger man in the doorway of the room where Anna lay, conscious but
unmoving, on the bed.

"You can use that thing later," Rudolph said. "She's sick now. Better
let her alone."

"I will teach her to run away," Herman muttered thickly. "She left me,
her father, and threw away a good job--I--"

"You come down-stairs. I've something to say to you."

And, after a time, Herman had followed him down, but he still clung
doggedly to the strap.

Rudolph led the way outside, and here in the darkness he told Anna's
story, twisted and distorted through his own warped mind, but convincing
and partially true. Herman's silence began to alarm him, however, and
when at last he rose and made for the door, Rudolph was before him.

"What are you going to do?"

Herman said nothing, but he raised the strap and held it menacingly.

"Get out of my way."

"Don't be a fool," Rudolph entreated. "You can beat her to death, and
what do you get out of it? She'll run away again if you touch her. Put
that strap down. I'm not afraid of you."

Their voices, raised and angry, penetrated through Anna's haze of fright
and faintness. She sat up in the bed, ready to spring to the window if
she heard steps on the stairs. When none came, but the voices, lowered
now, went on endlessly below, she slipped out of her bed and crept to
the doorway.

Sounds traveled clearly up the narrow enclosed stairway. She stood
there, swaying slightly, until at last her legs would no longer support
her. She crouched on the floor, a hand clutching her throat, lest she
scream. And listened.

She did not sleep at all. The night had been too full of horrors. And
she was too ill to attempt a second flight. Besides, where could she go?
Katie was not there. She could see her empty little room across,
with its cot bed and tawdry dresser. Before, too, she had had Grahams
protection to count on. Now