She turned her head away sharply. “So Cheveney was her friend, you think, eh?” he remarked. As they left Florence, dying men and women still scrabbled through the streets, screams emanating from the rows of houses, beggars running up to the horses, sick children in their arms, their eyes bleeding, their noses running, begging to join them in their journey out. They do a good job, huh?” He smiled at her. " The Chinaman paused. By the time she was done, the bodies in the bathtub were gathering flies. And it filled seven sheets of notepaper, each written only on one side.
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