She went to the windows to reassure herself that the shades were properly lowered. Her taxi was both visible and audible below. She noticed nothing else in the street except that it was beginning to rain. Probably she could not have recognised Smull, even if she had caught sight of him on the opposite side of the way. There is an old brick building there, untenanted, its shabby façade running westward toward the North River. Against it Smull stood in darkness. But already another person had discovered Smull; had recognised him; and now was shuffling slowly along toward him. The last bit of rubbish in the Dust Pan. Smull, intent on the lighted windows above, did not notice The Rubbish until it had drifted close to his elbow. Then he turned. It did not suit Smull to have any altercation then or there. He said in a guarded voice: “Get out of here, you son of a slut!” “I want to talk to you,” said Carter, hoarsely. “I’ve got to have some money----” Smull, infinitely annoyed, turned his back and walked westward, turning up the collar of his light overcoat as the drizzle thickened from the River. He walked a few paces, stood looking back over his left shoulder at the windows where light shone behind the yellow shades. Presently he was aware of Carter close behind him. His instinct was to kick him aside; but it was too near the house he was watching and he wanted no outcry or scuffle. “What do you want, you dirty bum?” he demanded, fumbling in his pocket, “--a dollar for a shell of coke?” “I want you to keep away from my wife,” said Carter in a ghost of a voice. Smull turned on him savagely. Neither stirred. But it was too close to her house: and Smull, deciding to end the matter quickly, turned once more and walked toward the North River. When he concluded that he was far enough away in the obscurity he halted, listening for the shuffle of feet. But Carter came very silently; he was at his elbow again before he heard him. Then, for the first time, the stealthy movements of the man seemed to convey a menace to Smull. As he confronted Carter he began to unbutton his overcoat, deliberately at first, then more swiftly as he saw the expression in his enemy’s eyes. White as a corpse, Carter said something to him he did not understand as his hand closed on the pistol sagging in his coat pocket. Then he saw a pistol in Carter’s hand; felt a terrific blow in the stomach that knocked him against the brick wall behind him. As he slid down to a sitting posture, all darkness seemed crashing down around him. And through the rushing chaos he freed his pistol and fired at a grey blur above him,--fired again as sight failed in his dying eyes,--lay very still there in the rain.... * * * * * Eris, aglow from her shower bath, began to realise it was time to hurry.