Ah. And then you kill him.""No," Arkwright replied patiently. "We are British. We avoid murder if we can help it.{...}

And John Kearns whispered into my ear: "Do you see it now? *You* are the nest. *You* are the hatchling. *You* are the chrysalis. *You* are the progeny. *You* are the rot that falls from the stars. All of us--you and I and poor, dear Pellinore. Behold the face of the magnificum, child. And despair."Though I was sickened by the sight, I looked. In the bower of the beast at the top of the world, I beheld the face of the magnificum, and I did not turn away.

I walked until the water lapped against my chest, and then I kept walking until it kissed the underside of my jaw. I was surprised how cold it was. I closed my eyes and ducked beneath the surface. Thee was the wind and the clouds and the pure pool and the boy beneath its unsettled surface, and the blood, the boy's and monster's, defiling the pool.

It is wondrous, Will Henry," breathed the monstrumologist over the maddening hum of the flies. "I feared we might be wrong-that Socotra was not the *locus ex magnificum*. But we have found it, haven't we? And is it not wondrous?"I agreed with him. It was wondrous.

He had noticed my bandaged hand."An accident," Warthrop said tersely."Dr. Warthrop chopped off my finger with a butcher knife."Von Helrung's brow knotted up in confusion. "By accident?""No," I answered. "That part was on purpose.

Oh my son! My son!" von Helrung cried. Now it was his turn to crush my master to his chest. "William! Your father has come for you!""I hope not! My father has been dead over fifteen years, von Helrun.

The monstrumologist closed his eyes. "You should not have come, Will Henry."And I answered, "You should not have left me, Dr. Warthrop.

We have just discovered our dear colleague butchered in a hotel room, and you wish to discuss literature?