It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. This was the first young man who had drawn from her something more than speculative interest. I couldn’t help the thought. A tourist caravan of four pole-chairs jogged along a narrow street. Chapter XXIV A CASE FOR THE POLICE After that first horrible moment it was perhaps Anna who was the more selfpossessed. My parents would have given me the money, so that is exactly why I didn’t ask them. ToC Mr.
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