"My heart is full of blood," he said.
"My heart is full of blood," he said.
Then he died. His death-rattle ... a grotesque croak ... shook his body in a final spasm. Then he was limp in their arms.
Hashford looked at Fillmore.
"Well, what do you suppose that means?"
Fillmore sighed.
"Hell, I don't know. Conrad Hawley never let anyone in on his little secrets before and he's not about to start now.""That's for sure."
Hashford scratched his head.
"Do you think it had anything to do with this ... what did he call it? ... this Ratketon of his?""Oh, don't talk to me about that!" Fillmore replied, a bit peevishly. "Of all the stupid ideas...."
"Well, you don't have to take it out on me."
Hashford looked down at the once-great Conrad Hawley's now-lifeless body.
"What should we do about him?""Leave him. His precious rats will take care of him soon enough. Let's get out of here."
Fillmore started slogging away through the sewer's filthy water.
"Okay," Hashford said.
He looked down at the corpse, then bent over to arrange Hawley's hands in the traditional gesture of repose.
One more glance before he turned to go brought him back to the body a final time. He gently closed the eyelids over Hawley's bulging eyes; they seemed to stare gleefully ahead at some terrifying yet tasteless destiny. Hashford shuddered, then hurried after Fillmore who was already rapidly disappearing in the distance.
"Hey, wait for me!"