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H. E. R. mPaul's first feeling was an immense need of revenge, then and there, at all costs, a need outweighing any sense of horror or despair. He gazed around him, as though all the wounded men who lay dying in the park were guilty of the monstrous crime: "The cowards!" he snarled. "The murderers!" "Are you sure," stammered Bernard, "are you sure it's Élisabeth's hair?" "Why, of course I am. They've shot her as they shot the two others. I know them both: it's the keeper and his wife. Oh, the blackguards! . . ." He raised the butt of his rifle over a German dragging himself in the grass and was about to strike him, when the Colonel came up to him: "Hullo, Delroze, what are you doing? Where's your company?" "Oh, sir, if you only knew! . . ." He rushed up to his colonel. He looked lik