“To hell rather—I’ll send you there—be warned.”
“I’ll not yield it.”
He slithered aside, preparing to bolt. With a scream of rage Marlowe drew a knife from his belt and sprang upon him. The actor, warding off the assault, struck out blindly. His arm caught the vicious wrist with a force that made it twist and recoil, driving back the blade full into the eye of the assailant. There followed a gasp, a stagger, a tearing fall—and then silence.
It was the prelude to that immortal music whose symphony had already closed in Elysium.
And the lawyer, profoundly thoughtful, went unconscious on his way.
Queen Elizabeth
“What was that?”
“Madam, it was the snow falling from the roof.”
“Methought it was a footstep.”
“No, madam.”