And De Grasse, tortured soul, who had once more shown himself willing to sacrifice himself to any loyalty he felt.
Even Monk, even Spider, lived not for himself but for Rack.
There were all the traditional virtues, dripping their traditional gore: nobility, self-sacrifice, patience, even generosity. By any test except the test of results, Rack was a great man and Burgess another.
And the test of results was a two-edged razor: for by that test, Cudyk himself was a total failure, a nonentity.
He thought, We are the hollow men, we are the stuffed men....
When every action led to disaster, those who did nothing were damned equally with those who acted.
Someone touched Cudyk's arm as he left Chong Yin's. He turned and saw that it was Ferguson.
"I've got something to say to you, Cudyk. I saw you were busy talking to Father Exarkos in there, so I didn't bother you. Besides, it's private. Come on down to my place."
The man was doing him an honor, Cudyk realized, in approaching him personally instead of sending an underling. And now, as Ferguson stood waiting for him to reply, Cudyk saw that there was something curiously like appeal in his eyes.