For in the wake of Columbine went Leandre, in the wake of Leandre, Polichinelle and then all the rest together, until Binet found himself sitting alone at the head of an empty table in an empty room-a badly shaken man whose rage could afford him no support against the dread by which he was suddenly invaded.
He sat down to think things out, and he was still at that melancholy occupation when perhaps a half-hour later his daughter entered the room, returned at last from her excursion.
She looked pale, even a little scared-in reality excessively self-conscious now that the ordeal of facing all the company awaited her.
Seeing no one but her father in the room, she checked on the threshold.
"Where is everybody?" she asked, in a voice rendered natural by effort.
M. Binet reared his great head and turned upon her eyes that were blood-injected.
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