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uddenly found himself remembering things Grandmother Malone had said
years ago. The last hour before ghosts and ghouls returned to their lairs. The hour when the Wicked One could
prowl the earth unchallenged and mark the unwary with his sign.
NotMalone reminded himselfthat he believed in ghosts and ghouls.
He remembered suddenly a young interne who had once confided in him that more deaths occurred in
hospitals in the hour before dawn than at any other time of the day.
EIGHTEEN82
Scientific nonsense Malone announced to the empty street. Anybody can be a liarbut it takes an
education to be a statistician.
He began walking a little faster. Quite a little faster.
When he'd been a very small boyGrandmother Levinsky had told him stories she'd heard from Polish
peasants. Werewolveswho had to return to their natural forms at sunrisecommitted their most hideous deeds
just before dawn.
A smallmangy mongrel darted out suddenly from an alley between two towering office buildings in pursuit
of an even smaller and mangier cat. He ran in front of Malonebarking and yelping. The little lawyer broke
into a run. The mongrel changed direction and followed Malonesnapping at his heels.
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