It’s a lake among precipices, and there is a little inn where we can stay, and sit and eat our dinner at a pleasant table that looks upon the lake. This did not affect Spurlock. “It is positively no use, Anna,” she declared, appealingly. She went about the gory business of disposing of the bodies, cutting them up with a large butcher knife and packing the light dry pieces of their bloodless remains in a double ply garbage bag, pieces that looked like overcooked, ruined meat. There was a great splash of blood upon it, her hand was all wet and sticky. . The doleful procession at once assumed a festive character. . Murder had become nothing to her.
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