and his eyes staring at one of them, seeing the frayed fibers that were stabbing like needles into his hands above. A chaos of sound; a whistle shrieking, a woman screaming, voices above, voices below... He squinted up at his hands-blood was starting to trickle down the inside of his wrists-the ovenlike heat was smothering, dizzying, engulfing him with the noxious stench of copper-voices shouted to him-he saw his hands starting to open-he was letting go because he wanted to, it wasn't the burning suffocation or the needles in his hands, he was letting go because he wanted to, just as he had jumped from the catwalk but instinct had made him grab the cables and now he was overcoming instinct-his left hand opened and fell-he hung by his right, turning slightly in the furnace heat- there was oil on the back of his hand from the stanchion or the chain or something-and they wouldn't have pushed him either-you think anyone can kill?-he had jumped and now he was letting go because he wanted to, that's all, and everything was all right and his knees weren't shaking any more, not that they had been shaking so much anyway, hs knees weren't shaking any more because he was in command again-he hadn't noticed his right hand open but it must have opened because he was dropping into the heat, cables were shooting up, someone was screaming like Dorrie going into the shaft and Ellen when the first bullet wasn't enough-this person was screaming this godawful scream and suddenly it was himself and he couldn't stop! Why was he screaming? Why? Why on earth should he be-• The scream, which had knifed through the sudden stillness of the smelter, ended in a viscous splash. From the other side of the vat a sheet of green leaped up. Arcing, it sheared down to the floor where it splattered upon a million pools and droplets. They hissed softly on the cement and slowly dawned from green to copper.
Kingship Remainded at the smelter. Gant accompanied Marion back to New York. In the plane they sat silent and immobile with the aisle between them.
After a while Marion took out a handkerchief and pressed it to her eyes. Gant turned to her, his face pale. 'We only wanted him to confess,' he said defensively. 'We weren't going to do it. And he did confess. What did he have to turn away like that for?'
The words took a long time to reach her. Almost inaudibly she said, 'Don't...'
He looked at her downcast face. 'You're crying,' he told her gently.
She gazed at the handkerchief in her hands, saw the damp places in it. She folded it and turned to the window at her side. Quietly she said, 'Not for him.'
They went to the Kingship apartment. When the butler took Marion's coat-Gant kept his-he said, 'Mrs. Corliss is in the living room.'
'Oh God,' Marion said.
They went into the living room. In the late afternoon sunlight, Mrs. Corliss was standing by a curio cabinet looking at the underside of a porcelain figurine. She put it down and turned to them. 'So soon?' she smiled. 'Did you enjoy-' She squinted through the light at Gant, 'Oh, I thought you were...' She came across the room, peering beyond them into the empty hallway.
Her eyes returned to Marion. Her eyebrows lifted and she smiled.
'Where's Bud?' she asked.
The End
