I did not need to see the face to know who it was.

There had been only two men in my vision, and one of them was immortal.
I stopped and turned the body over.

There was no joy in my heart, none of the lust of satisfied vengeance or slaked hate.

I had forgotten about the killing of my dog and all the rest of Henriques' doings.

It was only with curiosity that I looked down on the dead face, swollen and livid in the first light of morning.
The man had been strangled.