I will permit you to rescue me. She had exposed the real story behind Peters tragedy, that dark, handsome Chuck had killed himself by leaving the car running in the garage, not from a “heart attack” as 111 claimed the party line. She went about the gory business of disposing of the bodies, cutting them up with a large butcher knife and packing the light dry pieces of their bloodless remains in a double ply garbage bag, pieces that looked like overcooked, ruined meat. It was an oldfashioned peasant blouse, white, square necked, and trimmed with lace. She was taken dreadfully ill on the road, with spasms and short breath, and swoonings,—worse than ever she was before. "A good idea!" exclaimed the carpenter. Red velvet curtains rustled under dim lights as the door shut with a heavy snap. I change them in the morning at Cannon Street, and take my book as I come down. 1. Ever since the young police officer had arrived on her doorstep the clock had started ticking faster. Beyond that everything was nebulous.
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