The Waterbury Democrat., 1932-11-09
PROLOGUE

Quiet rclgned tn the big, high-ceilinged, old-fasi1ioned room with Its comfortably worn furniture, richly dark hangings and blazing open fire. Two men ---Ottwardiy, at least, enjoying their silent cOmpanionship-- sat reading and smoking be. fore the s1noldering logs. Each occupied Q deep, luxurious chair, so high of back that only the tops of two heads showed from the room behind them. s
 IL was quiet there in the old rcfnodeied house i'm q half- forgotten corner of the city--a house built in . day when out- side sounds were less but walls were better equipped to repel them, when Iieighbors' doings were not common property and ono couId live for years with- out giving them, in turn, any great knowledge of ones com. i. ings and goings.
 Quiet. except for an Oc- Casional stir and thulnp when . burned log parted and show cred out the sparks. and ex. cept for the subdued yet irri- tating creak-crea0k-crcak of shoe leather as the fOt of one crossed leg, poised before the fire, automatically circled back and forth on . narrow arc and at times stopped, emphasizing the slight sound by its tempo rary cessation.
 The owner of the foot some. times cracked the pages of his evening paper with q quick, nervous. meaningless gesture which never failed to bring up the other mans head sharply .--Only to have the fr0wn smOOfhed out by an immediate effort of will as his eyes drop- ped again to his book. His ape parent wish to concentrate on It's pages seemed to escape the notice of his more restless companion who, as he skfm- med through the paper, free quently fnterjected . low ex- clamatiOn, . mluttered com ment, on the news before his eyes. Suddenly he came to sOmething which caught and held his interest.
 NHmp!n Inc exclaimed. "Thcy say now that truck driver did- M't kill the girl in the Harlem store. Seems he has an air- 7 tight alibi."
 "Yes?0
 The others voice was smooth, expressiOnIess. It sim. ply filled the gap left for some sort of response.
 sUm. but no ono elsc'd have any motive, they say. v. looking now for . homicidal maniac."
 "Yes?" Again . colorless tone, vet under its surface courtesy lurked moro than . sGggesfiOn of irritation.
 "Uh.huh. That changes the whole case. A lunatic's another thing again. That is, I suppose the mans . lunatic. Nowadays they divide the types of insan- tty into such different classi- 1lcati0ns. Hut psychology's your line, not mine-"
 There was the respite of . few molncnts' silence; then the foot began to move again, hack and forth, back and forth, it's faint squee-eek, sasiec-eck creaIking through the quiet room. The meter was not quite regular, not quite what . listener would eubc0n- sciously expect. It stopped .. it started |. broke its rhythm v. the paper cracklcd sud. denly with . stiff rattle.
 Then the voice went on again, comfortable. relaxed. inr d0lcnt.
 ''Just what is . homicidal nrnniac2" z
 "This!v
 So quickly, so quietly had the other risen that he was standing over the man i'm the chair before q single startled upward look could more than catch the fixed glare of the eyes and the inhufnan, tecth- barring grin. There was . tcaec, animal like spring the foot twltchcd conyusIively once. ... the warm leather squeaIEing suddenly. and was still.
 Utterly still. As the room was utterly quiet. No CrcaIEIng, restless rhythm, no rattling pares. Tho newspaper lay where it has fallen from an inert hand.
 The old house was quiet, too. The fOur.st0ry building with