She approached a soft-looking bespectacled girl she had seen once in the halls and noticed for her haunted look. "Put it under my pillow," he said. Instead her point disengaged, dropped, and then the sword came up again and banged, flatbladed, onto Gosse’s wrist with such force that his own blade dropped from his grasp. “What are you doing?” he asked. A diversion was created by the violent struggles of the little old lady. Feeling rather exhausted, it occurred to him that possibly some provisions might have been left by the constable; and, looking about, he perceived a pitcher of water and a small brown loaf on the floor.
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