Sickens and slithers down into the mallows

Murder will soothe us and settle our fate;

Hallowed and pillowed in the palm of tomorrow

We tremble and trouble the hearts of the hollow:

The teeth of the tigers that stalk in the shallows Encrimson the foam at the fisherman's feet!

No-one paid him any attention. Hornwrack sat slumped at the edge of the room where he could keep an eye on both door and window (he expected nobody – it was a precaution – it was a habit), his long white hand curled round the handle of a black jug, a smile neglected on his thin lips. Though he loathed and mistrusted Verdigris he was faintly amused by this characteristic display. The poet now choked on his horrid extemporary, mid-line. He was becoming exhausted, staring about like a bullock in an abattoir, moving here and there in little indecisive runs beneath the strange Californium frescoes. Only Hornwrack and Chorica nam Veil Ban were left to importune; he hesitated then turned to the woman, with her pinched face and remote eyes. She will give him nothing, thought Hornwrack. Then we shall see how badly off he really is.

'I dined with the hertis-Padnas,'she explained confidentially, not looking at Verdisgris as he bobbed uxoriously about in front of her. 'They were too kind.'She seemed to see him for the first time and her imbecile smile opened like a flower.

'Muck and filth!'screamed Verdigris. 'I didn't ask for a social calendar!'

Shivering, he forced himself to face Hornwrack.

A grey shadow materialized behind him at the door and wavered there like some old worn lethal dream.

Hornwrack flung his chair back against the wall and fumbled for his plain steel knife. (Moonlight trickled down its blade and dripped from his wrist.) Verdigris, who had not seen the shadow in the doorway, gaped at him in grotesque surprise. 'No, Hornwrack,'he said. His tongue, like a little purple lizard, came out and scuttled round his lips. 'Please. I only wanted -'