"... this woman of yours ... she ain't at home there ... she ain't
at ... at home ... _anywhere_. ... the fat man, the one that kills,
he's talking to her but she isn't ... yes she is ... no she isn't--she's
answering him, talking about over-the-sea...."
"Lee Falcaro," Charles whispered. "Lee Bennet."
The trance-frozen face didn't change; the eerie whisper went on without
interruption: "... Lee Bennet on her lips, Lee Falcaro down deep in her
guts ... and the face of Charles Orsino down there too...."
An unexpected pang went through him.
He sorted and classified endlessly what he had learned. He formed and
rejected a dozen plans. At last there was one he could not reject.