He wanted her named Mary. "My wife and daughter, Sir," said the carpenter, introducing them to his guest. They were exquisite. “One day,” he resumed, “we will start off early and come down into Kandersteg and up these zigzags and here and here, and so past this Daubensee to a tiny inn—it won’t be busy yet, though; we may get it all to ourselves—on the brim of the steepest zigzag you can imagine, thousands of feet of zigzag; and you will sit and eat lunch with me and look out across the Rhone Valley and over blue distances beyond blue distances to the Matterhorn and Monte Rosa and a long regiment of sunny, snowy mountains. Pah!’ She flounced about and, crossing to the bed, plonked down on it, pointedly averting her face and resting the large pistol in her lap. Her features were meagre, and ghastly white, and had the fixed and horrible stamp of insanity. A detective will be here in a few moments to make inquiries into this affair.
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