glide into my cell and, standing by my couch, to recite to me the
list of tempting viands that might appear daily upon the board of
a Countess of Claiborne.

"He soon learned that his very presence itself was a persecution.

After my release from jail the last time, he began to follow me
everywhere. Turn where I would, there was Reginald Maltravers.
At suffrage meetings he took his station directly before the
speaker's stand, stroked his long blond mustache with his long
white fingers, and stared at me steadfastly through his monocle,
with an evil smile upon his face. Formerly he had, in several
instances, prevented me from attending suffrage meetings; once he
had me spirited away and imprisoned for a week when it fell to my
lot to burn a railroad station for the good of the cause. He
strove to ruin me with my leaders in this despicable manner.

"But in the end he took to showing himself; he stood and stared.
Merely that. He was subtle enough to shift the persecution from
the province of the physical to the realm of the psychological.
It was like being haunted. Even when I did not see him, I began
to THINK that I saw him. He deliberately planted that
hallucination in my mind. It is a wonder that I did not go mad.

"I finally determined to flee to America. I made all my
arrangements with care and--as I thought--with secrecy. I
imagined that I had given him the slip. But he was too clever
for me. The third day out, as one of the ship's officers was
showing me about the vessel, I detected Reginald Maltravers in
the hold. It is not usual to allow women so far below decks; but