which quivered there in the space between his wide collar and his pudgy chin.
The light glittered on the length of the vibrating knifeblade. It glittered on the redness which gathered and gushed forth from the spot where the tip had penetrated his veined neck.
He took a half-step forward and opened his mouth, but no Voice came forth—only a thin trickle of pinkish foam. He stared at the blade of the scalpel lodged in his throat, then fell and lay silent. Silent and forever still.
I turned. Roxie stood in the doorway.
"Just in time," she whispered. "I must have come to right after you left. I knew you'd head straight for here, so I followed, before the police arrived. I found the scalpel out there, in the other room, where those creatures are sleeping. And I heard you and Wagram talking, heard what he told you there at the last. Oh, Steve, I'm so glad I got here before he—"'
She started forward but I ignored her. I stooped and picked up the gun. "I'm not glad," I said, softly. "I'm sorry. Very sorry. You should have kept running, Roxie. Even without the emeralds, you should have kept running while you had the chance."'
"Steve—"
"No, don't come any closer." I had the gun now, held it steadily. "You see, there's just one thing wrong with your reasoning. I didn't head straight for here after I left the apartment. I made a stop first, out on the Strip. I saw your friend Clermer."
Drained white, the pallor of her face was indescribably lovely when framed by that long red hair.
"Or should I say Wagram's friend Clermer?" I continued. "He must have been Wagram's friend, first. Because it was Wagram who came to him, originally, and asked him to introduce you to me."
"No, that's not true! I don't know what Clermer told you, but he lied!"
I shook my head. "I'm willing to believe him," I answered, "Because it all fits."
My voice softened. "I think I understand, Roxie. I can see how it was. You were just one of those good-looking women who never quite managed to make the grade. The breaks hadn't come your way, and you were getting just a little panicky about the future. Maybe you'd have to choose between marrying some bartender or taking the B-girl
