What I felt like doing was weeping, but I answered: "It is a coroner's case, of course. I must notify the
police at once."
"What are you going to tell them?"
"What did you see at the window, Ricori?"
"I saw the dolls!"
"And I. Can I tell the police what did kill Braile before the chandelier fell? You know I cannot. No, I shall
tell them that we were talking when, without warning, the fixture dropped upon him. Splintered glass from
the pendants pierced his throat. What else can I say? And they will believe that readily enough when they
would not believe the truth-"
I hesitated, then my reserve broke; for the first time in many years, I wept.