He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. He comforted himself, however, with the certainty which he felt of capturing his prey on the Sunday. She was lovely, painted like the porcelain doll he had always wanted her to be. He initiated sex with her, lightly fingering her clitoris as an invitation. His mind seemed to be a remarkably full one; his knowledge of detailed reality came in just where her own mind was most weakly equipped. And when I ask you why it is you do so, you have no answer. From then until four in the afternoon there was nothing to do—the whole island went to sleep. ” “You have to kill people. “It sounds too ridiculous. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech.
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