"Hey," hissed Gavin, "keep your voice down! He can hear you."
"He doesn't even know we're here."
Gavin looked at Nadia thoughtfully. The girl's white features had gone translucent like milk glass. Her long black eyes wore an expression of horror.
She said, "It's just starting. He sees all the ones he's killed. They return and plague him. He can't rid his mind of them. It's a psychological quirk...." She paused unsteadily.
"Go on," Gavin urged.
"You'll see." Her voice was faint.
"You were a handsome tart, Paula," said Cabot, his glazed eyes following some figure invisible to Gavin. "A foul mind in a beautiful body. How many times did you deceive me? But I wasn't fooled." He laughed disagreeably. "I wasn't fooled. How did it feel to wake up with my fingers about your throat?" He paused, lean head cocked to one side, the cruel lines etched deeper about his mouth. "That fine body doesn't do you much good in hell, Paula?" The gloating slowly died from his features, his voice became resigned. "There's no use holding a grudge. You're dead, Paula, and there's nothing you can do about it. It's too bad you can't drink. You were fond enough of it alive. But I'll drink it for you," and he chuckled triumphantly.
"I'm leaving." Nadia sprang to her feet, lips bloodless. "I can't stand it."
Gavin escorted her to the door. He paused to salute Cabot. "Charmed to make your acquaintance, Paula," he added.
Nadia glanced at him in surprise. "How can you make fun of him?"