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CHAPTER ONE

How Nobody Came to the Graveyard

THERE WAS A HAND IN the darkness, and it held a knife

The knife had a handle of polished black bone, and a blade finer and sharper than any razor If it sliced you, you ht not even know you had been cut, not immediately

The knife had done alht to that house to do, and both the blade and the handle et

The street door was still open, just a little, where the knife and the httih the open door

TheWith his left hand he pulled a large white handkerchief from the pocket of his black coat, and with it he wiped off the knife and his gloved right hand which had been holding it; then he put the handkerchief away The hunt was almost over He had left the woman in her bed, the htly colored bedroom, surrounded by toys and half-finished models That only left the little one, a baby barely a toddler, to take care of One more and his task would be done

He flexed his fingers The s, a professional, or so he told himself, and he would not allow himself to smile until the job was completed

His hair was dark and his eyes were dark and he wore black leather gloves of the thinnest lambskin

The toddler’s room was at the very top of the house The man Jack walked up the stairs, his feet silent on the carpeting Then he pushed open the attic door, and he walked in His shoes were black leather, and they were polished to such a shine that they looked like dark mirrors: you could see the moon reflected in them, tiny and half full

The real ht, and it was diffused by the ht was enough It would do

He could make out the shape of the child in the crib, head and limbs and torso

The crib had high, slatted sides to prevent the child froht hand, the one holding the knife, and he aimed for the chest…