She leaned forward and addressed him. “I cut off his right hand pinky with his own rusty bolt cutter. Mother and Son. “Shhh. “It is true,” he said, “that I was dining last night at a restaurant in the Boulevard des Italiennes, and it is true that my companion was a young lady whose name is Pellissier. An old man with a bent back who limped in, slow and stiff, leaning heavily on a cane. She was conscious of a ceaseless undercurrent of sound—the guttural Chinese tongue. I knew that even with your scientific mind, you believe! I knew you would believe! I will likely flee south to Louisiana and make my passage into Mexico.
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