Herrick

Herrick lay in the long grass of the wooded lot, against the wall of the Hoover place.

Again there was a light footstep overhead, and Herrick guessed that enough time had elapsed for the toilet to have been completed.

And at the same moment the last knot yielded to stiff fingers and Herrick staggered to his feet.

As he spoke the pane above Herrick's head, where he struggled with the loose shutter, cracked into flying splinters.

I think you'd best take the end, Mr. Kane; me and Mr. Herrick the front windows—Lord, who's this?