I went through the short corridor to the kitchen. The bathroom door was open; I glanced in as I passed and Gus Schaeffer turned his head and looked over his shoulder at me. He was standing at the basin with his back to the door and when he turned his head to look at me his face was awful. His skin was damp and gray and his eyes had something leaden and dying in them.
I said: “Hi, Gus,” and went in to the kitchen.
There was a man sitting on one of the benches at one side of the narrow breakfast table. The table was set lengthwise into a niche, with a bench at each side, and the man on one of the benches was sitting with his back in the corner of the niche, his knees drawn up, his feet on the outside end of the bench. His head was back against the wall and his eyes and mouth were open. There was a thin knife handle sticking out of one side of his throat.
Gus came out of the bathroom and stood behind me in the doorway.
There were several nearly empty glasses on the table. One had fallen to the floor, broken into many glittering pieces.
I looked at the glass and I looked up at the man again. I think I said: “Christ,” very softly.
“I did it. I did it and I didn’t know it. I was blind...” Gus was clawing at my arm.
Bella came through the corridor and stood behind him. She looked very scared, very beautiful.
She said huskily: “Gus was terribly drunk. Frank said something out of turn and Gus picked up the knife and stuck it into his neck. He choked — I guess—”
She looked at the dead man, and then her eyes turned up white in their sockets and she fainted.