ange；　a　stack　of

gasoline　chits　for　the　hotel　truck；　the　two　pipes　Jack　brought　with　him

everywhere　but　rarely　smoked　。。。　and　his　key　ring。

She　picked　it　up；　held　it　in　her　hand　for　a　moment；　and　then　put　it　back　down。

The　idea　of　locking　the　bedroom　door　behind　her　had　occurred；　but　it　just　didn't

appeal。　Danny　was　asleep。　Vague　thoughts　of　fire　passed　through　her　mind；　and

something　else　nibbled　more　strongly；　but　she　let　it　go。

Wendy　crossed　the　room；　stood　indecisively　by　the　door　for　a　moment；　then　took

the　knife　from　the　pocket　of　her　robe　and　curled　her　right　hand　around　the

wooden　haft。

She　pulled　the　door　open。

The　short　corridor　leading　to　their　quarters　was　bare。　The　electric　wall

flambeaux　all　shone　brightly　at　their　regular　intervals；　showing　off　the　rug's

blue　background　and　sinuous；　weaving　pattern。

（See？　No　boogies　here。）

（No；　of　course　not。　They　want　you　out。　They　want　you　to　do　something　silly　and

womanish；　and　that　is　exactly　what　you　are　doing。）

She　hesitated　again；　miserably　caught；　not　wanting　to　leave　Danny　and　the

safety　of　the　apartment　and　at　the　same　time　needing　badly　to　reassure　herself

that　Jack　was　still　。

safely　packed　away。

（Of　course　he　is。）

（But　the　voices）

（There　were　no　voices。　It　was　your　imagination。　It　was　the　wind。）

〃It　wasn't　the　wind。〃

The　sound　of　her　own　voice　made　her　jump。　But　the　deadly　certainty　in　it　made

her　go　forward。　The　knife　swung　by　her　side；　catching　angles　of　light　and

throwing　them　on　the　silk　wallpaper。　Her　slippers　whispered　against　the　carpet's

nap。　Her　nerves　were　singing　like　wires。

She　reached　the　corner　o