13 with a latchkey went humming lightly up to her room. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that. “You’re wanted for questioning, miss. 1. I begin to fear I might be purposely go out of the way.
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