“You needn’t say a word more,” Mr. "To-night it is their turn," said Jonathan, binding up his wounded fingers with a handkerchief. ‘What are the chances, do you think, of that thing being already cocked?’ ‘Probably not even loaded,’ suggested Hilary hopefully. She directed him to an old part of the highway, a featureless stretch of old farmhouses capped in snow, with the occasional working silo. Celeste he knew. The room they were in was a sort of closet, with the door locked outside; but this was only a moment's obstacle to Jack, who with a chisel forced back the bolt.
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