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 trolled the air directly over a shape that lay awash in the rising tide, across the street from Catfish Row.

Suddenly from the swinging circle a single bird planed down and lit with an awkward, hopping step directly before the object. For a moment he regarded it with bleak, predatory eyes; then flew back to his fellows. A moment later the whole flock swooped down, and the shape was hidden by flapping wings and black awkward bodies that hopped about and fought inward to the centre of the group.

A negro who had been sleeping under an overturned bateau awoke and rubbed his eyes; then he sprang up and, seizing an oar, beat the birds away with savage blows.

He bent over the object for a moment, then turned and raced for the street with eyes showing white.

"Fuh Gawd' sake, folks," he cried, "come hyuh quick! Hyuh Crown, an' he done dead."

A group of three white men stood over the body. One was the plain-clothes man with the goatee and stick who had investigated the Robbins' murder. Behind him