fortyorfiftypacesalongthemuddyandicypathbeforeenteringagarden.Here,itsmelledofwetandrottingleaves,andfaintlyofmold.Withthefidenceofachildwhokheplacewell,takingfirm,rhythmicsteps,heehroughthedoorofayellowhouse,whichstoodbeforeusalmosthiddenbehindsandalmondtrees.

    Thehousewaspletelyempty,butitwasdryandwarm,asifsomebodywerelivingthere.

    “Whosehouseisthis?”Iasked.

    “TheJews”.Whenthemandied,hiswifeandkidswenttotheJewishquarteroverbythefruit-sellers’quay.They’rehavihertheclothiersellthehouse.“Hewentintoaeroftheroomaurhecat’sgo’sdisappeared,“hesaid.

    “Wherewouldadeadcatgo?”

    “Mygrandfathersaysthedeadwander.”

    “Notthedeadthemselves,”Isaid.“Theirspiritswander.”

    “Howdoyouknow?”hesaid.Hewasholdingthechamberpottightlyagainsthislapinallseriousness.

    “Ijustknow.Doyoualwaysehere?”

    “MymotheresherewithEsther.Thelivingdead,risenfromthegrave,ehereatnight,butI’mnotafraidofthisplace.Haveyoueverkilledaman?”

    “Yes.”

    “Howmany?”

    “Notmany.Two.”

    “Withasword?”

    “Withasword.”

    “Dotheirsoulswander?”

    “Idon’tknow.Acctowhat’swritteninbooks,theymustwander.”

    “UncleHasanhasaredsword.It’ssosharpit’llcutyouifyoujusttouchit.Andhehasadaggerwitharuby-studdedhandle.Areyoutheonewhokilledmyfather?”

    Inoddedindigher“yes”nor“no.”“Howdoyouknowthatyourfatherisdead?”

    “Mymothersaidsoyesterday.Hewourning.Shesawhiminherdream.”

    Ifpresehtheopportunity,wewouldchoosetodointhenameofagreatergoalwhateverawf