The word "Kerine" was being shouted in every street and across every backyard fence in the universe two days later and it was a tense moment outside a closed white door in a hospital in New York City. Although the surgery was on the fifteenth floor, Norman and Dorothy could hear the clamor in the street below as thousands halted traffic for blocks around and the policemen stood by with folded arms, smiling. Downstairs, the lobby was packed with photographers and reporters, waiting. As the white door opened, Norman and Dorothy jumped to their feet. Norman could hear his heart thumping above the noise from the street as he looked down at the sheet-covered stretcher the nurses rolled out the door. As the stretcher rolled into the hall, the face appeared and deep within his pounding heart, Norman yelled his joy. Johnny's face was pale and thin, as if recently recovered from a long illness, but it was Johnny's face, his barber-shy black hair tousled on his forehead. "Hello, chum," Johnny said. "The doc told me all about it." Then he glanced at Dorothy. "So that's her." "She's got exclusive rights to the story," Norman grinned. "I can't wait to get back in a full dress suit," Johnny said. "For the wedding." End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Citadel of Death, by Carl Selwyn