 Who drew the fatal slip?
Therefore, it must not return." She shook them out and handed the bowl to Svan, who was rapidly creasing the six fatal slips. She reached in mechanically, her eyes intent on his, took out a slip and held it without opening it. Instinctively they had opened the slip, turned it over and over, striving to detect if it was the fatal one. He stared at them in a new light, saw their indecision magnified, became opposition. If there was a coward, it would do no good to unmask him. Masked by the table, his hand, still holding the pencil, moved swiftly beneath the table, marked his own slip. The six conspirators in Svan's old ground car moved slowly along the main street of the native town.
 Svan
 Svan  Ingra  Toller  Ingra's aunt