going with me? Nor attempt to interfere in what I am going to do?"
"I give you my word, Ricori."
"McCann, you need not come back. Wait for us in the car."
Ricori was soon dressed. As I walked with him out of my house, a clock struck one. I remembered that
this strange adventure had begun, weeks ago, at that very hour…
I rode in the back of the car with Ricori, the dead girl between us. On the middle seats were Larson and
Cartello, the former a stolid Swede, the latter a wiry little Italian. The man named Tony drove, McCann
beside him. We swung down the avenue and in about half an hour were on lower Broadway. As we
drew near the street of the doll-maker, we went less quickly. The sky was overcast, a cold wind blowing
off the bay. I shivered, but not with cold.