| He turned toward the site and gasped, his mouth open, hisarms hanging slack at his side. "Bonne mkre," he murmured,blinking. Three of the excavated baths were occupied. There was aman in each of them. They were fiat on their backs. Rouxmoved closer, half frozen by fear, driven by curiosity. Hestared at each man in turn. They were all well dressed. Twowore expensive overcoats; one had a felt hat on his head. "Are you all right?" he said, hopefully, his voice cracking.It was a stupid question. He knew they were far from allright. "They re dead," Roux whispered to himself, "all dead!" He moved closer and crouched over one of the holes. Hisanalytical mind took over as the initial shock faded. He waslooking for the cause of death. There was no apparentwound. The man s eyes were closed; his chubby face had thewaxy, drained texture of death and his hands were folded,fingers interlaced, on his chest. The professor stood up, no-ticing that all three had been laid out in the same manner.Each of them was grasping an identical yellow-blossomedmimosa in their lifeless hands . . . |
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