Computer Vision and Augmented Reality in iOS: OpenCV and ARKit Applications 1st Edition Ahmed Fathi Bekhit - The ebook is available for quick download, easy access to content
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Concrete Algebra With a View Toward Abstract Algebra
Benjamin Mckay
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Ahmed Fathi Bekhit
The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the
advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate
at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the
editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the
material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have
been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional
claims in published maps and institutional affiliations.
This chapter will focus on what computer vision is, why we need it, the
evolution of the technology, its different applications, and how it is used
in Augmented Reality.
2. Image processing
3. The Output Layer is the last layer in a Neural Network that receives
the final results from the previous Hidden Layer.
7. Repeats the process until the final grade surpasses the threshold
Summary
In this chapter, we read about the history of Computer Vision. Grayscale
and color images were compared. We also studied why we need
Computer Vision and its evaluation. We also saw a simplified
architecture of a Feedforward Artificial Neural Network. Finally, we
looked at Augmented Reality.
To conclude, computer vision is a field of Artificial Intelligence (AI)
that enables computers and systems to derive meaningful information
from digital images, videos, and other visual inputs and take actions or
make recommendations based on that information. If AI enables
computers to think, computer vision enables them to see, observe, and
understand.
Computer vision works much the same as human vision, except
humans have a head start. Human sight has the advantage of lifetimes
of context to train how to tell objects apart, how far away they are,
whether they are moving, and whether there is something wrong in an
image.
In the next chapter, we’ll take a look at Augmented Reality and
different types of Augmented Reality.
© Ahmed Fathi Bekhit 2022
A. F. Bekhit, Computer Vision and Augmented Reality in iOS
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-1-4842-7462-0_2
This chapter will focus on what Augmented Reality is, the evolution of
the technology, and its different applications.
Summary
In this chapter, we discussed some basic concepts related to Augmented
Reality. After that, different types of Augmented Reality were discussed.
AR can be defined as a system that incorporates three basic
features: a combination of real and virtual worlds, real-time interaction,
and accurate 3D registration of virtual and real objects.
The core components of any AR-based tool are the processor,
sensors, input devices, and mainly the display. The display could be a
smartphone, a handheld device, smart glasses, or a head-mounted
display (HMD). The input devices are either cameras or web cams.
Sensors include gyroscopes and accelerometers.
In the next chapter, we will take a look at image and video
processing fundamentals in detail.
Other documents randomly have
different content
“On the contrary, I asked a very simple question with a view to
finding out how Meredith looked when you last saw him. If I bungled
my meaning you must not take offense,” replied Curtis.
Colonel Hull covered his anger with bluff heartiness, while
inwardly registering a score to settle with the surgeon at some
future date.
“Certainly, I’ll answer any questions,” he exclaimed, with a broad
smile. “But you must admit your meaning was a bit obscure—and
from a total stranger; well, we’ll let it go, eh, Belle?” with a sidelong
look at Mrs. Meredith. “What is it you wish to know?”
“When you last saw Meredith, was he agitated or his normal self?”
questioned Curtis.
“Oh, he was a bit excited,” Hull admitted, with an air of candor.
“He called at my office one day last week and got uneasy over stock
quotations. He had been dabbling in oil, against my advice.”
“And that was the last time you saw him?” At Curtis’ polite
persistency Hull’s color deepened, but he was saved reply.
“Dad!” Lucille tapped him on his shoulder. “Mother is waiting in the
hall. She isn’t feeling well,” turning to Mrs. Meredith, who had risen
also, “so don’t keep her waiting, Dad.”
“I’ll come at once.” Colonel Hull waited courteously for Curtis to
precede him. “I am told, little girl, that John left you a very
handsome fortune.”
“In a codicil to his will,” Mrs. Meredith replied for Lucille who, a
step or two ahead, had not caught her father’s remark.
“Unfortunately the codicil cannot be found.”
Colonel Hull stopped dead in his tracks and glared at Mrs.
Meredith.
“What’s that?” he demanded. “Do you mean the codicil has been
suppressed—stolen, if you like it better?” meeting Mrs. Meredith’s
stony look with angry eyes.
“Dad!” Lucille laid a restraining hand on his arm and pressed it
warningly. “Don’t excite yourself. You will alarm mother.”
Mrs. Hull, who had been too nervous to keep still, stopped her
aimless wandering about the square hall and waited for their arrival.
Lucille, in advance of the others, turned to Curtis.
“Mother,” she said, “let me introduce Doctor David Curtis,” she
hesitated before adding, “Anne’s fiance.”
“I am very pleased to meet you.” Savoir faire was not Mrs. Hull’s
strong point, and that she was ill at ease was as apparent to Curtis,
sensitive of his surroundings, as it was to his companions. She shook
his hand listlessly, then dropped it and pulled her evening cloak up
about her shoulders.
“The taxi is at the door,” announced Colonel Hull. “Come, Claire.”
But she lingered a moment to address Mrs. Meredith.
“When will John be buried?” she asked in an undertone.
“We will hold funeral services to-morrow morning in the chapel at
Oak Hill,” responded Mrs. Meredith. “Only the family will be present.
I thought Sam Hollister had told you of the arrangements; he has
them in charge.”
“I haven’t seen Sam.” Mrs. Hull kissed Lucille warmly, and then
shook hands with Curtis before she moved toward the front door.
“Good night, doctor. Oh, Belle,” with a change of tone, “it does make
me feel so badly to come here and not find John. He was so genial,
so kind. Only the last time I talked with him about Julian’s career, he
said I was my husband’s lodestar.”
Mrs. Meredith did not answer in words. After administering a cold
kiss on Mrs. Hull’s flushed cheek, and with a wave of her hand to the
Colonel, she turned back to Curtis, who stood waiting near the
entrance to the library.
“Lodestar is good, only spell it ‘load’” she commented, caustically,
but keeping her voice lowered so that it would not reach the Hulls.
“John had quite a sense of humor.”
Curtis smiled. “Are you going upstairs, Mrs. Meredith?” he asked.
“Yes—and you?” pausing on the lower step.
“I’ll smoke awhile in the library; it is only nine o’clock,” as the
clock chimed the hour. “Good night.”
“Good night,” she echoed, and continued up the staircase.
Curtis listened until her soft footfall faded away in the distance,
then turned thoughtfully and entered the library. The servants had
spent but scant time after the inquest in replacing the furniture in its
accustomed places, and Curtis found some difficulty in moving
about.
“Oh, do be careful,” exclaimed a soft voice to his right, and a hand
touched his. “This way. I,” her dignity sat quaintly upon her, “I am
Anne.”
“As if it could be any one else!” Curtis spoke with involuntary
fervor, and Anne laughed shyly, then recollection returned to her,
and her expression grew serious.
“I came downstairs hoping to find you,” she explained, her color
mounting. “When I heard Cousin Claire and Cousin Julian talking in
the drawing-room I came in here to wait until they left. I want,” she
hesitated, selecting her words carefully, “to speak of Uncle John’s
plan for—for our marriage.” The last words came with a rush, then
she paused, tongue-tied.
Curtis Came to her rescue. “I understand,” he began gravely. “We
will call the whole affair off. In other words,” striving to spare her
embarrassment, “I release you from your promise.”
She plucked nervously at her gown. “It is you who do not
understand,” she said. “I don’t wish to be released.”
Curtis raised his head. Had his ears played him false?
“You mean,” he asked slowly, “that you wish to go on with the
marriage ceremony?”
“Yes.” The affirmative was little more than a whisper.
“But,” it was his turn to hesitate, “it seems now that you are very
wealthy; it is not necessary to carry out the bargain your uncle
wished to force upon you.”
She did not answer at once. “I gave my word to him,” she
murmured. “I cannot break faith with the dead.”
The ticking of the mantel clock was distinctly audible in the
silence. Suddenly she spoke again, a catch in her voice.
“You hesitate—you do not wish to—to marry me?” she asked.
The hot color mounted to his brow and then receded.
“I only hesitate on your account,” he said. “In marrying me you
will be tied to a blind man—a failure.”
She did not reply at once. Instead, Curtis heard her move
backward a few steps and then a slight click sounded as an electric
lamp was switched on. Anne turned and regarded Curtis gravely
under its direct rays. There was none too much flesh even yet on the
tall, straight figure, but the air of alertness and poise which had
formerly been characteristic had returned to him. His face still bore
traces of mental suffering, although its unyouthful sadness had been
effaced.
“Because it is a bargain,” Curtis’ voice startled her from her
contemplation of him, “I wish it to be a fair one. You are offering me
the wherewithal to live. I can offer you nothing—”
“Perhaps,” she broke in swiftly, “I crave your friendship, your aid.”
Curtis felt his heart skip a beat and then race on.
“I will do anything, anything for you,” he replied, a trifle
unsteadily. “And will gladly carry out your uncle’s plan.”
“Thank God!” she whispered.
The portières were thrust back suddenly and Mrs. Meredith stood
on the threshold, with Hollister behind her.
“You may go to your room, Anne,” she said in icy tones.
A second later the portières dropped back into place and Curtis
was alone.
CHAPTER IX
David Curtis felt around his empty cigarette case and sighed
regretfully; he had not realized his rapid consumption of its contents.
The cigarettes had, at least, provided diversion of a sort. Since
Anne’s peremptory summons by her mother, he had been left
severely alone. No one had entered the library and the folding doors,
which had been in use for the inquest in place of the portières, and
closed again by Mrs. Meredith after Anne’s departure, had prevented
his hearing anything transpiring in the hall. The clock on the mantel
had ticked off the minutes with maddening regularity. At the stroke
of ten he laid on the smoking table, by his elbow, a box of matches,
which he had been twiddling between his fingers, and picked up his
cane. The opening of one of the library doors caused him to face in
its direction.
“Excuse me, sir,” apologized Herman as he advanced further into
the room, “I did not know you were still here, sir. I was thinking of
closing up the house for the night.”
“I won’t detain you,” replied Curtis quickly. “I am on my way to
bed now. Has every one retired?”
“Yes, sir.” Herman busied himself closing one of the long French
windows opening on the veranda and bolting the other four. “Mr.
Armstrong has just come back.”
Curtis paused on his way to the door. “Mr. Armstrong,” he
repeated, inquiringly. “Mr. Gerald Armstrong?”
“Yes, sir.” Herman dusted off his hands with a deprecatory
gesture. “He told me, sir, that he missed his train, so he came back,
sir, to spend the night.”
“Oh!” Curtis’ ejaculation covered doubt. He caught and wondered
at the badly suppressed excitement in the butler’s usually
unemotional voice. “Where is Mr. Armstrong?”
“He went straight to his old room, sir; he hadn’t taken away his
things.” Herman switched off two of the tall standing lamps, leaving
the room in semidarkness. “Said I need not disturb Mrs. Meredith to
tell her of his arrival. Is there anything I can do for you, sir?”
“No, thanks.” Curtis reached the doorway and turned around.
“Good night, Herman.”
“Good night, sir.” Herman watched the tall, erect figure pass into
the hall, a glint of admiration in his eyes. “He beats all,” he muttered
under his breath, then devoted his attention to closing the house.
As Curtis reached the staircase a thought struck him and he
hesitated. Why not get Herman to refill his cigarette case from the
stock which John Meredith had kept for his guests? He swung
around and had partially retraced his steps when he paused
abruptly. He had caught the sound of heavy breathing on his right,
then light, receding footsteps.
“Herman?” His low call met with no response, and after a
moment’s wait he returned to the staircase and slowly mounted it,
his cane swinging at a convenient angle in his right hand. It was
leaded and made an excellent club in an emergency.
Keeping his left hand on the banisters, he circled the corner of the
staircase, recalling McLane’s clear description of the way to his
bedroom. He had just made the turn into his corridor when a hail
from Sam Hollister stopped him.
“Hello, Curtis!” Hollister kept his usually hearty voice at a low
pitch. “I am glad you haven’t gone to bed. I want a word with you.”
“You can have more than one if you wish,” responded Curtis. “I
am in no hurry.”
“Good! Suppose we go to John’s old bedroom. This way.” He
slipped his arm inside Curtis’ and suited his step to his as they went
down the winding corridor. “I was on my way to look you up.”
“Yes?” queried Curtis, as his companion ushered him into the
bedroom, switched on the light and then closed the hall door. “What
can I do?”
An answer came from an unexpected quarter. “Go to H—l!”
shouted Ruffles, awakened from slumber by the brilliant electric
light. The parrot hopped about on his perch and flapped his wings in
Hollister’s face as the latter approached.
“I’ll wring that bird’s neck some day,” he grumbled. “How John
stood his infernal talking is one of the mysteries of this place.”
Curtis snapped his fingers and hummed a popular tune. Ruffles’
plumage assumed its normal sleek appearance and his anger
subsided. He gently nipped Curtis’ extended finger, then with one
sleepy eye cocked at Hollister, descended from the top of his perch
to a lower crossbar and prepared to enjoy his interrupted nap.
“Hum! You seem to have the same knack of pleasing Ruffles as
John,” commented Hollister, eyeing the parrot with disfavor. “Come
over this way, Curtis.” He pushed a chair aside and Curtis followed
him across the bedroom. He judged they were near an open window
from the cooler air which blew upon them. “I’ll shut this in just a
minute—”
“No, please don’t,” broke in Curtis. “The room is a trifle close and
the fresh air feels good.”
“Well, if it’s not too much draught.” Hollister looked somewhat
dubious; he was not a cold-air enthusiast. “Take this seat by the
secretary, I’ll sit here.”
A second later Curtis heard the jingle of keys knocking against
wood. Hollister caught his inquiring expression.
“I’m going through John’s desk,” he explained. “Inspector Mitchell
and Coroner Penfield said they ransacked it thoroughly, without
results, however.”
“And what do you expect to find?” asked Curtis.
“The documents John signed last night,” promptly. “Or if not,
some clue to their present whereabouts. We could find no trace of
them in the bureau or highboy. This,” laying his hand on the
secretary, “is the only available place for John to place the papers.
He certainly did not leave them lying around the room.”
“Perhaps he gave them to some one,” suggested Curtis, as
Hollister inserted a key in the top drawer of the secretary.
Hollister twisted and turned the key before he could get the
drawer unlocked. “If John did that, wouldn’t that person come
forward now and turn them over to me or to the police?” he asked.
“Provided that person has heard of Meredith’s death,”
supplemented Curtis.
Hollister turned his head and stared at him. “Not know of his
death!” he ejaculated in astonishment. “If John did give them to any
one, that person is living here now. You will recall that no one was
admitted to this house after Gerald Armstrong’s departure.”
Curtis tapped his cane thoughtfully. “I do not recollect that the
coroner asked if any caller was admitted to the house after Meredith
retired to his room,” he said.
“Maybe he didn’t,” retorted Hollister. “But you know that no one
called here, for you were down in the library later than anybody else,
and the library is near the front door—”
“And I am blind.”
Hollister looked taken aback. “I forgot,” he mumbled. “But you
have remarkable hearing—”
“The heavy portières were drawn and I sat in the far end of the
library, near the fireplace,” Curtis pointed out. “Also, I was absorbed
in my thoughts. I cannot swear that no one was admitted last night.”
Hollister took out, examined, and replaced the contents of the
drawer before answering.
“It hadn’t occurred to me that some one—some outsider—might
have had access to John last night after we left him,” he admitted
slowly. “Frankly, I have been haunted by one idea—that the papers
were stolen—”
“By whom?” Curtis’ quiet voice gave no hint of the anxiety
consuming him as he waited for Hollister’s reply.
Hollister carefully sorted a bundle of papers and put them back in
one of the pigeonholes. “By the person who benefited through the
disappearance of the documents,” he said, and Curtis frowned at the
indirect answer.
“And who is that?” he asked.
Hollister eyed him keenly. “You know as well as I,” he exclaimed
roughly. “None other than John’s niece—Anne Meredith.”
Curtis bent the cane in his strong grasp, then let it spring back.
“Miss Meredith asked to have you retained as her lawyer,” he said.
“As her representative you should be the last person to point
suspicion toward her.”
“As her lawyer I am trying to divert suspicion from her by finding
those cursed documents,” snapped Hollister, his quick temper rising.
“And look here, Curtis,” swinging toward the blind surgeon in his
excitement, “it is going to be d—mned serious for her if we don’t
find them. Don’t forget that John was murdered.”
“By heaven! Do you mean to insinuate—”
Curtis was on his feet, his hand clenched about the other’s arm.
“No, no. Let go, you fool!” Hollister strove to free himself. “I
haven’t the faintest idea that she murdered her uncle, but,” as Curtis
released his grip on his arm, “but I do believe that she took those
papers.”
Curtis mastered his temper with difficulty. “Your reasons for
thinking Miss Meredith a thief?” he demanded.
Hollister’s appraising glance at his companion lasted fully a
minute.
“Well,” he said finally, “through the disappearance of the codicil
and the prenuptial agreement, Anne inherits a large fortune without
having to go through a marriage ceremony with you.”
“And is that your only reason for thinking she took the
documents?” persisted Curtis.
“Isn’t that enough?” replied Hollister, insolently. “She wanted to
dodge being married to you. That, depend on it, made her a thief.”
“Indeed?” Curtis laid his cane across his knees and bent a little
forward. “Then how do you account for the fact that she is still
willing to marry me?”
Hollister dropped the loose papers he had at that moment
removed from a smaller drawer of the secretary.
“Do you mean to say that you two are going on with Meredith’s
plan?” he stammered. “You are going through with the marriage
farce?”
Curtis bowed affirmatively. “We are,” he said. “Anne and I have
just reached that decision.”
“I’ll be everlastingly blessed!” Hollister sat back and contemplated
his companion in astonishment. It was some seconds before he
spoke. “Anne is a damned sight cleverer than I thought!”
“I don’t get your meaning?”
“You don’t, heh? Well,” Hollister pulled himself up short, “let’s see
what we can find in this desk.” He stooped over and picked up the
papers which he had dropped some moments before. “Receipted
bills, household accounts,” running his eyes down them. “Stop a
minute, what’s this?” He unfolded as he spoke a legal-size sheet.
“Evidently part of an inventory, furniture and so on. Here’s a notation
in one corner, written crisscross, in John’s hand: ‘Contents of safe
deposit belongs to’—that’s all,” looking up blankly at Curtis.
“Well, what about it?” asked Curtis, with growing impatience.
“Oh, nothing.” Hollister refolded the paper, gathered the others in
a neat bundle and replaced them in the drawer, but the legal-size
sheet with its inventory of “furniture and so on,” he slipped inside his
coat pocket.
“Put it back,” advised Curtis sternly. Hollister’s mouth dropped
open and his hand fell to his side.
“How?” he began, then turned fiercely on Curtis. “Damn it, you
can see!”
“No.” Curtis smiled. “You simply forgot that that grade of paper
rustles badly. It required no particular art of divination to detect you,
but don’t try to fool me again, Hollister.”
The lawyer colored hotly, bit his lip, hesitated, then took out the
paper and put it with the others in the drawer.
“I kept it out on impulse,” he said apologetically. “I don’t know
why, unless it was that John’s handwriting in that notation seemed a
bit shaky.”
“Was there room to complete his sentence?” Hollister took the
paper from the drawer again and extended it toward Curtis. “Feel
here,” he said, and guided Curtis’ fingers over the lower right-hand
corner. “What do you find?”
“That the corner has been cut off diagonally,” replied Curtis. He
ran his hand over the sheet. “The other corners are untouched.”
“Just so.” Hollister crossed his short legs and assumed a more
comfortable attitude. “Well, the notation is just above the corner and
runs from edge to edge of the paper. It reads: ‘Contents of safe
deposit box belongs to’—the name must have been written just
beneath it.”
“And cut off.” Curtis handed back the paper. “Put it away, Hollister.
The question now is, did Meredith cut off the corner or did some one
else? And if so, with what object?”
“And what has the contents of the safe deposit box to do with
John’s murder and the disappearance of the codicil and the
prenuptial agreement?” demanded Hollister, his excitement
mounting.
“The answer to that will be found when his safe deposit box is
opened,” replied Curtis dryly. “Does Coroner Penfield know of this
safe deposit box?”
“I told him that John had a box at the Metropolis Bank,” answered
Hollister. “We have taken steps to have it opened in the presence of
the Registrar of Wills and the bank officials to-morrow morning.”
“Good!” Curtis leaned forward and placed the inventory sheet in
the open drawer, then closed it. “Go ahead, Hollister, and look
through the desk.”
“There is only one drawer more that I haven’t examined.” The
lawyer opened it as he spoke and went over its contents with care.
“Pshaw! nothing but invitations, souvenirs, and menus.” He closed
the drawer with a slam. “Our hunt is a failure, Curtis.”
Curtis pushed back his chair. “It would seem so,” he admitted, “as
far as locating the missing papers is concerned. Tell me, Hollister,” as
his companion rose, “what was the relationship between John
Meredith and Gerald Armstrong?”
“Why, none,” responded Hollister. “Armstrong is a man of about
thirty, I should imagine. He is a partner of Colonel Hull’s and that
threw him more or less in contact with John in a business way, as
Hull’s firm transacted some financial deals for John at one time.”
“Is Armstrong particularly attractive?”
“I believe he is quite a favorite with women.” Hollister’s tone
lacked enthusiasm. He paused by the electric light switch,
preparatory to turning it off, when Curtis, who followed him more
slowly across the bedroom, should have reached the hall door. “John
liked him well enough. They always appeared friendly, and he was a
frequent visitor here. I can’t understand why Armstrong left so
suddenly last night, or why he hasn’t been back.”
“Armstrong returned just before I came upstairs.”
“He did?” Hollister stared at Curtis in silence for a second, then
spoke with more than usual rapidity. “Have you talked with him?”
“No. Herman told me of his arrival and that he had gone at once
to his bedroom.” Curtis paused by the open door and, unseen by
Hollister, who had partly turned his back to switch off the lights in
the bedroom, laid his hand on the outside door knob. From it still
dangled the piece of string which the night before had led him to
believe that he was entering his bedroom. “Coming, Hollister?”
The lawyer closed the door tightly behind him. “I’ll walk with you
to your bedroom,” he half whispered. “It is later than I thought.”
Their footsteps made no noise on the heavy carpet and they
traversed the corridor in silence. At the entrance to Curtis’ bedroom
Hollister bade him a low voiced “good night.”
“Just a second.” Curtis stopped him as he was about to turn back.
“Can I borrow a cigarette?”
“Certainly, take these,” and the lawyer thrust a package into his
hand. “No, I don’t want any to-night,” and not waiting to hear Curtis’
words of thanks, Hollister hurried away.
The package had been thrust into his hand upside down, and to
Curtis’ dismay the cigarettes scattered on the floor before he could
catch them. Stooping down he groped around and after some
difficulty located the majority of them. He was about to rise when he
touched a string partly tucked out of sight under the edge of the
strip of carpet which ran the length of all the corridors.
Getting to his feet, Curtis closed his door, then stooped over. The
bit of string lay in the corridor directly under the door knob.
Curtis carried the string into his bedroom, closed the door, and
making his way to a chair, sat down. First laying aside his cane, he
lighted a cigarette, then held up the string and felt it carefully. He
judged it to be about six inches in length, of ordinary twine, and one
end was tied in a loop which had been neatly cut. Curtis held the
two ends of the loop together. Its size proved that it could have
been tied over his door knob.
Curtis smoked for many minutes without moving, the twine held
suspended in his left hand, and his mind busy with the enigma of
the two strings. Why had Fernando denied tying a string to his door
knob, so that he, Curtis, might identify his bedroom? Why had the
string been cut off, and why, above all, had a string been tied to
John Meredith’s door knob? An hour later Curtis undressed and went
to bed with the enigma still unsolved.
CHAPTER X
MURDER
David Curtis was not far behind Leonard McLane in reaching the
hall and instinctively swung in the direction the latter was headed.
Anne Meredith turned back from the head of the circular staircase at
their approach.
“Oh, Doctor McLane!” she exclaimed. “I found poor Gretchen
stretched out here in a dead faint. She is coming to, now. Thank
you,” addressing Inspector Mitchell who, seated on the top step,
supported the chambermaid’s head on his broad shoulder. “You were
very kind.”
“Not at all, Miss Meredith.” Mitchell, considerably embarrassed by
his role of nurse, gladly relinquished his place to McLane and
Susanne, who at a sign from Anne helped to support the half-
conscious Dutch girl.
Herman, standing in the square hall at the foot of the circular
staircase, had heard the commotion and, with forethought, instantly
provided himself with a glass of water and a smaller glass containing
whisky.
Armed with these he appeared on the scene just as McLane, with
the assistance of Susanne, had gotten Gretchen stretched out on a
broad settee which stood in a window alcove off the corridor.
Susanne placed a pillow under Gretchen’s head and loosened her
black gown with a deftness which won an approving word from
McLane. It took some persuasion to induce Gretchen to swallow
some of the whisky and she made a wry face as the powerful