Darell's peculiar bent of mind was exemplified in a rusty broadsword, a tall grenadier's cap, a musket without lock or ramrod, a belt and cartouch-box, with other matters evincing a decided military taste. \"Josh Durkin?\" Lucy whispered loudly. The psychic vibration of him thickened the air of the room as if he were already inside. The doctor and Anna were left alone. She drew a long breath. He was indeed still in the throes of his bewilderment. She counted three on the way to the train and four more on the crowded car that would have gladly taken him to bed with not so much as a word. Amongst them was a revolver. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat.
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