anybody. This is my latest job--a press-cutting book. There was a
picture of her in the _Chronicle_ yesterday; she bought twenty-six
copies.

HUBERT (_taking his pipe out_): She'll get to believe she did it
herself in the end.... Is she in?

OLIVIA: She's gone over to Breakerly to interview a local paper.

HUBERT: The lad pushing the go-cart?... He's the devoted son all
right, isn't he?

OLIVIA (_after a pause_): I don't talk to him much.

HUBERT: Nice fellow. I've thought a lot about that prying into his
things--pretty bad show, really, you know. (_Going to the left
window_) I wonder if they'll ever nab him?

OLIVIA (_with a start_): What do you mean?

HUBERT: The fellow who did it.... Wonder what he's doing now.

OLIVIA: I wonder.

HUBERT: Damn clever job, you know, quietly.... That was a rum touch,
finding that broken lipstick in the rubbish-heap.... You know, the fact
they still have no idea where this woman's head is----

OLIVIA (_convulsively_): Don't....