But that possibility had been anticipated. “Why do you kill me?” Michelle asked. For the first time it occurred to Ah Cum that the young man might not be quite conscious of his surroundings, that he might be moving in that comatose state which is the aftermath of a long debauch. “How’d you know it was me?” He looked conspiratorially into the room for hidden informants. I don’t believe any one could have traced us here. “Of course, I remember now. Tell me how you are earning your living here, Anna—typewriting, or painting, or lady’s companion?” “I think,” Anna said, “that the less you know about me the better.
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