Then she stood up and looked around the room. The slim knife was wrested from her grasp, and she was flung backwards, towards the bookcases. The thin stream of blood on which her eyes were fastened with a nameless horror reached almost to her feet. You know that. Another door was next opened, and, preceded by the ordinary, with the sacred volume in his hand, the prisoner entered the room. “Indeed, you could have no more faithful friend, you could find no one more anxious to serve you. I can pull the strings of this stiff-necked puppet as I please. Once she had asked him: "Are you my father?" He had answered: "I am.
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