Then, when he did turn round, it was too late.

The knife she carried under her skirt flashed out and into Boyne's heart.

He collapsed on the floor without a sound, save only a deep sigh.
Stooping over, Noreen drew the knife out with a little gurgling cry--a smothered exclamation.

Then she opened the door again--the side-door leading into the street-closed it softly, and was gone.
Two hours afterwards the landlord opened the door.

Erris Boyne lay in his silence, stark and still.