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It was a Gothic treasure of a building, a tiny bit of the glory of St Patrick's, and possibly even ht for all its detail and organization and conviction a-city blandness and wastes

I sat on the church steps, rather liking the carved surfaces of the broken arches, rather liking to sink back in the darkness against sanctified stone

I realized very carefully that the Stalker was nowhere about, that tonight's deeds had broughtfootsteps, that the great granite statue had been inanier's identification in ive Dora weeks, perhaps even months, before her peace of mind was disturbed by her father's disappearance, and she would now never know the details

So much for that The end of the adventure I felt better, far better than when I'd spoken with David Going back, looking at thatto do

Only probleer He'd been "the Victier Was that ee and Dad "Darling, this is Roge," he'd say to her from Istanbul"Can you meet me in Florida, just for a few days I have to talk to you"

I pulled out the phony identification The as harsh and cold, but noNo h broken arch of a church door, but I liked it

I looked at this fake passport Actually it was a complete set of false papers, soypt S froain because it is one of those nah when they hear it Wynken, Blinken, and NodWasn't that the poem?

It was a siments, and let it

bloay into the night, over the tiny upright stones of the sust It went like ashes, as if his identity had been cre paid

I felt weary, full of blood, satisfied, and foolish now for having been so afraid when I talked to David David no doubt thought I was a fool But what had I really ascertained? Only that the Thing stalking er, the Victier Hadn't I already known this? It didn't one

It just meant the Stalker chose his ownto do hat I did

I adruous as of lower Manhattan, except that nothing in this strange city is exactly incongruous anymore because the mix of Gothic and ancient and n said Wall Street

Was I at the very foot of Wall Street? I rested back against the stones, closed htAnd what of Dora? Did Dora sleep like an angel in her bed in the hotel opposite the cathedral? Would I forgive myself if I took one last secret, safe, forlorn peek at Dora in her bed before letting go of the whole adventure? Over

Best to get the idea of the little girl out of e dark corridors of that empty New Orleans convent with the electric torch in hand, brave Dora Not at all like the last et about it, Lestat, you hear me?

The world was full of potential victian to think in terms of an entire life pattern, an ambience to an existence, a coo back down to Miaht David and I could talk