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They
got
out
.
They
started
going
and
they
kept
on
going
—
because
the
man
’
s
voice
had
said
that
he
was
Ragnar
Danneskjold
.
In
the
next
half
-
hour
,
Boyle
’
s
mills
were
razed
to
the
ground
.
Razed
,
wiped
out
,
not
a
brick
of
them
left
standing
.
They
say
it
was
done
by
long
-
range
naval
guns
,
from
somewhere
way
out
on
the
Atlantic
.
Nobody
saw
Danneskjold
’
s
ship
.
.
.
That
’
s
what
people
are
whispering
.
The
newspapers
haven
’
t
printed
a
word
about
it
.
The
boys
in
Washington
say
that
it
’
s
only
a
rumor
spread
by
panic
-
mongers
.
.
.
I
don
’
t
know
whether
the
story
is
true
.
I
think
it
is
.
I
hope
it
is
.
.
.
You
know
,
when
I
was
fifteen
years
old
,
I
used
to
wonder
how
any
man
could
become
a
criminal
,
I
couldn
’
t
understand
what
would
make
it
possible
.
Now
—
now
I
’
m
glad
that
Ragnar
Danneskjold
has
blown
up
those
mills
.
May
God
bless
him
and
never
let
them
find
him
,
whatever
and
wherever
he
is
!
.
.
.
Yes
,
that
’
s
what
I
’
ve
come
to
feel
.
Well
,
how
much
do
they
think
people
can
take
?
.
.
.
It
’
s
not
so
bad
for
me
in
the
daytime
,
because
I
can
keep
busy
and
not
think
,
but
it
gets
me
at
night
.
I
can
’
t
sleep
any
more
,
I
lie
awake
for
hours
.
.
.
Yes
!
—
if
you
want
to
know
it
—
yes
,
it
’
s
because
I
’
m
worried
about
her
!
I
’
m
scared
to
death
for
her
.
Woodstock
is
just
a
miserable
little
hole
of
a
place
,
miles
away
from
everything
,
and
the
Taggart
lodge
is
twenty
miles
farther
,
twenty
miles
of
a
twisting
trail
in
a
godforsaken
forest
.
How
do
I
know
what
might
happen
to
her
there
,
alone
,
and
with
the
kind
of
gangs
that
are
roving
all
through
the
country
these
nights
—
just
through
such
desolate
parts
of
the
country
as
the
Berkshires
?
.
.
.
I
know
I
shouldn
’
t
think
about
it
.
I
know
that
she
can
take
care
of
herself
.
Only
I
wish
she
’
d
drop
me
a
line
.
I
wish
I
could
go
there
.
But
she
told
me
not
to
.
I
told
her
I
’
d
wait
.
.
.
You
know
,
I
’
m
glad
you
’
re
here
tonight
.
It
helps
me
—
talking
to
you
and
.
.
.
just
seeing
you
here
.
You
won
’
t
vanish
,
like
all
the
others
,
will
you
?
.
.
.
What
?
Next
week
?
.
.
.
Oh
,
on
your
vacation
.
For
how
long
?
.
.
.
How
do
you
rate
a
whole
month
’
s
vacation
?
.
.
.
I
wish
I
could
do
that
,
too
—
take
a
month
off
at
my
own
expense
.
But
they
wouldn
’
t
let
me
.
.
.
Really
?
I
envy
you
.
.
.
I
wouldn
’
t
have
envied
you
a
few
years
ago
.
But
now
—
now
I
’
d
like
to
get
away
.
Now
I
envy
you
—
if
you
’
ve
been
able
to
take
a
month
off
every
summer
for
twelve
years
.
"
It
was
a
dark
road
,
but
it
led
in
a
new
direction
.
Rearden
walked
from
his
mills
,
not
toward
his
house
,
but
toward
the
city
of
Philadelphia
.
It
was
a
great
distance
to
walk
,
but
he
had
wanted
to
do
it
tonight
,
as
he
had
done
it
every
evening
of
the
past
week
.
He
felt
at
peace
in
the
empty
darkness
of
the
countryside
,
with
nothing
but
the
black
shapes
of
trees
around
him
,
with
no
motion
but
that
of
his
own
body
and
of
branches
stirring
in
the
wind
,
with
no
lights
but
the
slow
sparks
of
the
fireflies
flickering
through
the
hedges
.
The
two
hours
between
mills
and
city
were
his
span
of
rest
.
He
had
moved
out
of
his
home
to
an
apartment
in
Philadelphia
.
He
had
given
no
explanation
to
his
mother
and
Philip
,
he
had
said
nothing
except
that
they
could
remain
in
the
house
if
they
wished
and
that
Miss
Ives
would
take
care
of
their
bills
.
He
had
asked
them
to
tell
Lillian
,
when
she
returned
,
that
she
was
not
to
attempt
to
see
him
.
They
had
stared
at
him
in
terrified
silence
.
He
had
handed
to
his
attorney
a
signed
blank
check
and
said
,
"
Get
me
a
divorce
.
On
any
grounds
and
at
any
cost
.
I
don
’
t
care
what
means
you
use
,
how
many
of
their
judges
you
purchase
or
whether
you
find
it
necessary
to
stage
a
frame
-
up
of
my
wife
.
Do
whatever
you
wish
.
