She stared out of the paned glass window, watching the trees being blown bare by the gale force. I won't give him a chance. In this cell was a huntsman, who had fractured his skull while hunting, and was perpetually hallooing after the hounds;—in that, the most melancholy of all, the grinning gibbering lunatic, the realization of "moody madness, laughing wild. His arm entered the round window of the white haze of her vision, his wrist spouting blood in currents, dripping on the stone floor. Even the stars were strangers. . . She tried not to pant, not to reveal herself, and she began to shake. She helped Jack to sit down, and dragged the jacket off him, lifting his shirt to expose the gash that had sliced across his side.
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