And there in the shadowed room she was weaving her
spells.
Outside, snug against the deadly cold in his warm closed car, Derry
waited alone for Bronson's signal.
There was movement at last in the shadowed room. The General spoke
from the bed. Hilda answered him, and rose. She arranged a little
tray with two glasses and a plate of biscuits. Then she crossed the
room towards the bookcase.
Bronson reached up his hand and touched the button which controlled the
lights on the third floor. He saw Hilda raise a startled head as the
faint click reached her. She listened for a moment, and he withdrew
himself stealthily up and out of sight. If she came into the hall she
might see him on the stairs. He had done what he could. He would
leave the rest to Derry.
"What's the matter?" the General asked.
"I thought I heard a sound--but there's no one up. This is our hour,
isn't it?"
She brought the bottle out from behind the books. Then she came and
stood by the side of the bed.
"Will you drink to my happiness, General?"
She was very handsome. "To our happiness," he said, eagerly, and
unexpectedly, as he took the glass.
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