And,
walking through some beautiful woods, she told me the reason why she
had not gone to Lincoln. A Pole whom she had met at the gambling
tables at Monte Carlo was pursuing her, threatening her that if he saw
her with any other man he would murder her and her lover. This at
first seemed an incredible tale, but when she entered into details,
there could be no doubt that she was telling the truth, for had she
not on one occasion very nearly lost her life through this man? They
were in Germany together, she and the Pole, and he had locked her up
in her room without food for many hours, and coming in suddenly he had
pressed the muzzle of a pistol against her temple and pulled the
trigger. Fortunately, it did not go off. 'It was a very near thing,'
she said; 'the cartridge was indented, and I made up my mind that if
things went any further, I should have to tell my husband.' 'But
things can't go further than an indented cartridge,' I answered. 'What
you tell me is terrible'; and we talked for a long time, walking about
the woods, fearing that the Pole might spring from behind every bush,
the pistol in his hand. But he did not appear; she evidently knew
where he was, or had made some compact with him. Nevertheless, at the
close of the day, I drove through the summer evening not having got
anything from Gertrude except a promise that if she should find
herself free, she would send for me.
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