Other flashes of comprehension came to me there, too. Keeban was fast developing, I understood. He’d started, so far as I knew, only with robbery; then he’d run to shooting of old Win Scofield and, from that, to his attempt at the simultaneous gassing of the group appointed to gather in the Sencort directors’ room. Keeban had tried to carry Doris with him from counterfeiting into killing; he had failed. He must have been carrying some, or most, of these normals with him from smaller offenses into those which threatened “the chair.” He could not simply have happened upon a group of normals going the exact gait he was going; he had to speed up some of them and keep them with him and impress them with the certainty of something worse than “the chair”, if any failed him. So he was giving “the glass room” to Doris and me, not merely for our punishment, but for an example to the others. And more of the others were arriving now. I heard footsteps and voices, a girl’s voice among them and her laugh. I turned about. Shirley, Win Scofield’s widow, had come with two young men beside her. The sight of her brought me images of recollection. How I had seen her sing in her house that night before the shooting! How, like a cabaret Récamier, she had received me after her husband was dead! How I witnessed her dance at the Flamingo Feather that night she had stabbed at her partner, Keeban! Sometimes, since, I had doubted the authenticity of my own witnessing that night; I wondered if, actually, she had tried, in that sudden, swift dart of the dagger, to kill Keeban, her partner. Now I wondered that no longer. She came in smiling; but her smile was too like Doris’s when she now smiled at me. For a moment I thought that Shirley was with us; she, also, was to be a guest of the glass room. Then I realized that this was not so. She had come only to see us entertained within the glass. I realized that it was for her we had been waiting. She had come but not of her own will. She had been brought to see this entertainment which was planned for her. I got a glimpse of Keeban’s face; and there I saw a leer which seemed to say: “You stabbed at me. I let you get away with it. But watch your step. Now see what I can do.” She kept on smiling. She looked at Doris but didn’t speak. She didn’t even nod at Doris, indeed; and Doris took no heed of her. She gazed at me, did Shirley Scofield,--Christina. And she smiled at me as she had at Keeban, and she smiled at the normals, too. That smile meant nothing; no more than their grins in reply to her. Keeban spoke aloud. “Everybody’s here.” It seemed to be a prearranged signal. Two of the normals came up to me and took my arms; two more placed themselves in position similarly to escort Doris. “What’s the big rush, boys?” said Keeban then. “Didn’t they show us something new down on Wall Street? Don’t we show it back to them?”