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788 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2008
[T]his Diabolical Creature, had Lived in most infandous Buggeries for no less than Fifty years together; and now at the Gallows, there were killed before his Eyes, a Cow, Two Heifers, Three Sheep, and Two Sowes, with all of which he had Committed his Brutalities. His Wife had seen him Confounding himself with a Bitch, Ten years before...
He was afraid. He was afraid to talk to any of those who might have helped him. That was what has struck me so forcibly about Bobby's puny, misspent young life. He was afraid to confide in anyone whose mature advice and counsel might have shown him a bit of daylight on the road ahead. He was afraid of society – afraid and ashamed. And out of his fear and his shame and his cowardice, he gambled away Freda's life and his own. You might almost say it was society who handed him the dice and urged him to throw.
Captain Van Buren muses, “You know, I still keep hoping I'll meet that man someday, the torso murderer.” Outside a red fuse flickers fitfully by the rails where an engine is switching, and in the distance the sky glows dully with the lights around Public Square. A Rapid Transit train rattles and rolls, leaning on the curve, its windows a streak against the black cliffs; and for an instant its headlight sweeps the foot of Jackass Hill. But only for an instant: the blackness closes in, the night...is impenetrable as ever.