The brown house, almost exactly the same as the Beck’s, turned black as pitch in the gloom. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. Terror had laid a paralyzing hand upon her, fear kept her almost unconscious of the curious glances which she was continually attracting. . She pulled a few strands of her hair from her head to leave with Michelle’s. In privacy he read and reread it a dozen times, and eventually destroyed it by fire. “It couldn’t be. . Over here a man quickly loses faith, and I find myself back on solid ground once more. It belonged to his father, and was worn by him on the night he was murdered. Sir John, by instinct and training, was an unimaginative person.
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