He must die, in both action and setting, without dignity.
It was some comfort, he became aware, to find that the place was fairly private.

Except for the breach by which they had entered, the blotched and spotted compound walls stood ruinous yet high, shutting out all but a rising slant of sunlight, and from some outpost line of shops, near by, the rattle of an abacus and the broken singsong of argument, now harsh, now drowsy.
Heywood had been speaking earnestly to Sturgeon:-- "A little practice--try the balance of the swords.

No more than fair." "Fair?
Most certainly," croaked that battered convivialist.

"Chantel can't object." He rose, and waddled down the path.

Rudolph saw Chantel turn, frowning, then nod and smile.