In all her life no living thing had had to depend upon her, not even a dog or a cat. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. Get out your pad and pencil. Further on, there were impressions of bloody footsteps along the floor. She trailed him to his apartment and a black door that read 727 in solemn gold-tone lettering. The unpleasant oily chill of fever overtook her body, and she watched in horror as Sebastian carried her to his bed on his shoulder like a sack of flour.
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