Three Blind Mice

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It was very cold. The sky was dark and heavy with unshed snow.

A man in a dark overcoat, with his muffler pulled up round his face, and his hat pulled down over his eyes, came along Culver Street and went up the steps of number 74. He put his finger on the bell and heard it shrilling in the basement below.

Mrs Casey, her hands busy in the sink, said bitterly, "Drat that bell. Never any peace, there isn't."

Wheezing a little, she toiled up the basement stairs and opened the door.

The man standing silhouetted against the lowering sky outside asked in a whisper, "Mrs Lyon?"

"Second floor," said Mrs Casey. "You can go on up. Does she expect you?"

The man slowly shook his head.

"Oh, well, go on up and knock."

She watched him as he went up the shabbily carpeted stairs.

Afterward she said, he "gave her a funny feeling." But actually all she thought was that he must have a pretty bad cold only to be able to whisper like that - and no wonder with the weather what it was.

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