3: Rumba
Monday
A WINTRY and undecided sun percolated through the net curtains of Quayle's office windows, forming odd shadows on the carpet. The shadows reminded Quayle of a jig-saw puzzle— something akin to the one in which he found himself engrossed.
He began to think about Kospovic. He concluded that the Kospovic business might be fairly obvious. Kospovic had committed suicide because he was frightened. He was sufficiently frightened of something or somebody to desire to have done with this world and its works. He was without hope, and death seemed to him the easiest way out.
The reasons for his lack of hope were apparent. He was an alien, with a bad record, in a strange country— the only country in the world that could shelter him from the effects of his past; sick, despondent and
