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           She’sdead."

           Hiswatchtoldhimitwasaftersixintheevening;dazedandreelingfromtheheavytorportheday’sterribleheathadinducedinhim,hestruggledoutofhispajamasandintohispriest’sclothes,threwanarrowpurplestolearoundhisneckandtooktheoilofextremeunction,theholywater,hisbigsilvercross,hisebonyrosarybeads.ItneveroccurredtohimforamomenttowonderifMrs.Smithwasright;heknewthespiderwasdead.Hadshetakensomethingafterall?PrayGodifshehad,itwasneitherobviouslypresentintheroomnorobvioustoadoctor.Whatpossibleuseitwastoadministerextremeunctionhedidn’tknow.Butithadtobedone.Lethimrefuseandtherewouldbepost-mortems,allsortsofcomplications.Yetithadnothingtodowithhissuddensuspicionofsuicide;simplythattohimlayingsacredthingsonMaryCarson’sbodywasobscene.

           Shewasverydead,musthavediedwithinminutesofretiring,agoodfifteenhoursearlier.Thewindowswereclosedfast,andtheroomhumidfromthegreatflatpansofwatersheinsistedbeputineveryinconspicuouscornertokeepherskinyouthful.Therewasapeculiarnoiseintheair;afterastupidmomentofwonderingherealizedwhatheheardwereflies,hordesoffliesbuzzing,insanelyclamoringastheyfeastedonher,matedonher,laidtheireggsonher.

           "ForGod’ssake,Mrs.Smith,openthewindows!"hegasped,movingtothebedside,facepallid.

           Shehadpassedoutofrigormortisandwasagainlimp,disgustinglyso.