I suppose he sat for five minutes.

His face was just--sweaty, like everybody's--and gray, and apparently

relaxed.

When he walked over to the window, I thought I'd won, and my nerves

gave an inch or two--so I could go on living a little while longer,

myself.

But he leaned way down, lifted his long, slatty leg, stepped out on the

terrace, and hopped up on the parapet. Sixteen stories of straight wall.