Burn, Witch, Burn!

place myself. I don't want 'em to know I ain't by myself.' He says, 'I got reasons. You hang around an'

look in now an' then, but don't come in unless I call you.' I says, 'Boss, do you think it's wise?' An' he

says, 'I know what I'm doing an' you do what I tell you.' So there ain't any argument to that.

"We get down to this place an' Paul does like he's told, an' the boss walks up the street an' he stops at a

little joint that's got a lot of dolls in the window. I looks in the place as I go past. There ain't much light

but I see a lot of other dolls inside an' a thin gal at a counter. She looks white as a fish's belly to me, an'

after the boss has stood at the window a minute or two he goes in, an' I go by slow to look at the gal

again because she sure looks whiter than I ever saw a gal look who's on her two feet. The boss is talkin'

to the gal who's showing him some dolls. The next time I go by there's a woman in the place. She's so

big, I stand at the window a minute to look at her because I never seen anybody that looks like her.

She's got a brown face an' it looks sort of like a horse, an' a little mustache an' moles, an' she's as funny a

looking brand as the fish-white gal. Big an' fat. But I get a peep at her eyes-Geeze, what eyes! Big an'

black an' bright, an' somehow I don't like them any more than the rest of her. The next time I go by, the

boss is over in a corner with the big dame. He's got a wad of bills in his hand and I see the gal watching

sort of frightened like. The next time I do my beat, I don't see either the boss or the woman.

"So I stand looking through the window because I don't like the boss out of my sight in this joint. An' the

next thing I see is the boss coming out of a door at the back of the shop. He's madder than hell an'

carrying something an' the woman is behind him an' her eyes spitting fire. The boss is jabbering but I can't

hear what he's saying, an' the dame is jabbering too an' making funny passes at him. Funny passes? Why,

funny motions with her hands. But the boss heads for the door an' when he gets to it I see him stick what

he's carrying inside his overcoat an' button it up round it.

"It's a doll. I see its legs dangling down before he gets it under his coat. A big one, too, for it makes quite

a bulge-"

He paused, began mechanically to roll a cigarette, than glanced at the covered body and threw the

cigarette away. He went on:

"I never see the boss so mad before. He's muttering to himself in Italian an' saying something over an'

over that sounds like 'strayga-' I see it ain't no time to talk so I just walk along with him. Once he says to

me, more as if he's talking to himself than me, if you get what I mean-he says, 'The Bible says you shall

not suffer a witch to live.' Then he goes on muttering an' holding one arm fast over this doll inside his coat.

"We get to the car an' he tells Paul to beat it straight to you an' to hell with traffic-that's right, ain't it,

Paul? Yes. When we get in the car he stops muttering an' just sits there quiet, not saying anything to me

until I hear him say Jesu!' like I told you. And that's all, ain't it, Paul?"

The chauffeur did not answer. He sat staring at McCann with something of entreaty in his gaze. I

distinctly saw McCann shake his head. The chauffeur said, in a strongly marked Italian accent,

hesitatingly:

"I do not see the shop, but everything else McCann say is truth."

I got up and walked over to Ricori's body. I was about to lift the sheet when something caught my eye. A

red spot about as big as a dime-a blood stain. Holding it in place with one finger, I carefully lifted the

edge of the sheet. The blood spot was directly over Ricori's heart.

I took one of my strongest glasses and one of my finest probes. Under the glass, I could see on Ricori's

breast a minute puncture, no larger than that made by a hypodermic needle. Carefully I inserted the

probe. It slipped easily in and in until it touched the wall of the heart. I went no further.

Some needle-pointed, exceedingly fine instrument had been thrust through Ricori's breast straight into his

heart!

I looked at him, doubtfully; there was no reason why such a minute puncture should cause death. Unless,

of course, the weapon which had made it had been poisoned; or there had been some other violent

shock which had contributed to that of the wound itself. But such shock or shocks might very well bring

about in a person of Ricori's peculiar temperament some curious mental condition, producing an almost

perfect counterfeit of death. I had heard of such cases.

No, despite my tests, I was not sure Ricori was dead. But I did not tell McCann that. Alive or dead,

there was one sinister fact that McCann must explain. I turned to the pair, who had been watching me

closely.

"You say there were only the three of you in the car?"

Again I saw a glance pass between them.

"There was the doll," McCann answered, half-defiantly. I brushed the answer aside, impatiently.

"I repeat: there were only the three of you in the car?"

"Three men, yes."