I killed him, Nigel. They chatted pleasantly as he drove around the neighborhood for a half an hour, then stopped by the Diedermayer house. ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Gerald. That is what I’ve had on my conscience. “Why on earth did you TELL me?” he cried. Books; an inexplicable hunger to be satisfied. ’ ‘Now why didn’t I make that connection?’ Gerald asked of the air in a tone of regret. Turning now, and running down the terrace. But tell me one thing I don’t understand—tell me one thing: How can you help it by coming down into the battle and the mire? That’s the thing that concerns me.
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