\" She thought of her kill. " Lady Trafford sighed deeply. You were pointed out to me at—a few nights ago. “I have signed a statement that I shot myself; bad trade and drink, both true—both true. It was not a difficult affair. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. The stage manager reappeared presently, and made a speech. Her greatest exploit was the howling before the mid-day meal. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day.
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