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datatime: 2022-11-27 04:04:45 Author:bopsfpAS

She turned down a carpeted hall and stopped before Apartment 21.

Miss Jane Simmons

The Countess Krak said, I am a fellow teacher, from Atalanta University, Manco, and I want to talk to you about a student of yours.

Miss Simmons was having trouble locating the Countess to talk to her. The Countess must have seen that she was speaking to someone who was as blind as a bat.

The brass grate spoke up. Yes?

I punched the radio button.

Like a sleepwalker, my favorite ally went down the hall toward her doom.

Police Inspector Grafferty was quivering like a bloodhound. I talked it up as a private inside tip. He said he could smell the headlines already. Eager. I caught him at the Civic Center and he's just now locating squad cars. He won't fail you.

Good, I said and clicked off. Oh, Countess Krak, you've been outsmarted for once and you won't even be able to trace it to me It's a long ways from the Civic Center to Morningside Heights, but the police drive over everybody.

Krak looked around the rather large and well-furnished living room. Looking for a place to stamp, I thought. A radio seemed to be playing in the next apartment. The Countess Krak saw that a corridor led to a bedroom. She pushed Simmons toward it.

Good, I said and clicked off. Oh, Countess Krak, you've been outsmarted for once and you won't even be able to trace it to me It's a long ways from the Civic Center to Morningside Heights, but the police drive over everybody.

She turned down a carpeted hall and stopped before Apartment 21.

The Countess Krak said, I am a fellow teacher, from Atalanta University, Manco, and I want to talk to you about a student of yours.

The brass grate spoke up. Yes?

There was a wide bed, a boudoir table and an easy chair, all decorated in frilly white organdy. The Countess Krak closed the bedroom door. She lowered Simmons onto the bed. She arranged the pillow so it would support the helmet properly. She plugged in her microphone and then sat down in the easy chair.

Miss Jane Simmons

Like a sleepwalker, my favorite ally went down the hall toward her doom.

Have you done your duty? I said.

Good, I said and clicked off. Oh, Countess Krak, you've been outsmarted for once and you won't even be able to trace it to me It's a long ways from the Civic Center to Morningside Heights, but the police drive over everybody.

Good, I said and clicked off. Oh, Countess Krak, you've been outsmarted for once and you won't even be able to trace it to me It's a long ways from the Civic Center to Morningside Heights, but the police drive over everybody.

Krak looked around the rather large and well-furnished living room. Looking for a place to stamp, I thought. A radio seemed to be playing in the next apartment. The Countess Krak saw that a corridor led to a bedroom. She pushed Simmons toward it.

The grim pound of her boots halted before an apartment house that bore the number 352. It was not a shabby apartment house: Miss Simmons must have some income of her own. There was no doorman, but the brass mailboxes shone. And there it was, right there on number 21, the nameplate:

Police Inspector Grafferty was quivering like a bloodhound. I talked it up as a private inside tip. He said he could smell the headlines already. Eager. I caught him at the Civic Center and he's just now locating squad cars. He won't fail you.

The neighborhood in Morningside Heights was not too bad. It was full of winter-dead trees and peopled with rather well-dressed but sullen kids, who watched the Countess Krak go by in total conviction that she was a truant officer in disguise and was about to blow the whistle on them all. And Krak's purposeful progress could not have done otherwise than give that impression. Gods, I thought, how they would have screamed and run had they known they watched a murderer on the brink of bloody slaughter. Even the streetwise kids of north Manhattan would not have been able to stomach what I was sure was about to occur.

Have you done your duty? I said.

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