There were, when all the smoke had cleared away, no consequences at all. The charges of criminal carelessness never materialized. His grandfather, unconcerned with death, finally forgave him for wasting a few evenings with a cheap unknown named Maria. The world didn't dream that the tragedy at the cliff was not an accident. He had murdered successfully.... And then he strolled from his grandfather's house one evening, bent for an engagement with a girl almost as beautiful as Maria had been and much more sensible, and a queer thing happened. As he walked across the curb from door to car--a big new coupé to take the place of the roadster--he heard someone walking beside him. At least he thought for a moment that he had heard steps matching his own. But he saw an instant later that he had been wrong, because when he turned around, there was no one on the sidewalk. No one within half a block of him. * * * * * He got into the coupé and drove to the apartment of the girl he had the engagement with. Again, as he walked from curb to building door, he heard steps sound out beside him--possibly a little behind him, that matched his steps. But he scarcely thought twice about it, because there were half a dozen people around him here, and any one of them could have made the sound. He had one vague and irrelevant memory as he opened the vestibule door. It was a memory of Maria and him walking down the street. Striving to match his moods, Maria also, laughingly, strove to match his strides. She tried to keep her small red heels clicking on the walk in time with his steps. He had often teased her about it, taking longer and slower strides that taxed her smallness more and more till finally she simply could not keep step with him and would break rhythm with a gay laugh. Maria and he, walking down the street, with her absurd red heels clicking in time with his step.... He thrust the picture aside and went up deep-carpeted halls and stairways to the apartment of the blond with the slightly hard blue eyes with whom he had a date. And they went to a Broadway club and danced. During the evening, Gruin cursed his memory for bringing back the picture of himself and Maria walking, with her red heels tapping the time of his steps. Because, after that recollection, his imagination really began to play tricks on him. He began to hear heels clicking with each of his steps as he moved. Not just now and then, but all the time. When he stood up from the table as the orchestra started, and walked around to help the blond with her chair, he heard a precise little heel-click with each stride he took. The click sounded, scarcely audible, right beside him as he escorted her to the dance floor. In spite of himself, Gruin thought of those words of Maria's father: "You killed her to be free from her. But you shall not be free. She will be with you always...." The blond smiled up at him.