"By strange coincidence, a thunderstorm had been brewing when Mahon, doing
his grisly work at the bungalow, was dealing with the most grisly job of
all--the head, the woman's head. He had severed it from the trunk, built a
huge fire in the sitting room, placed her head upon it, then (I owe a debt
here to Edgar Wallace, who edited the transcript of the Mahon trial), then the
storm broke with a violent flash of lightning and an appalling crash of
thunder. As the head of Emily Kaye lay upon the coals, the dead eyes
opened, and Mahon fled out to the deserted shore. When he nerved himself
to return, the fire had done its work. The head was never found..."
his grisly work at the bungalow, was dealing with the most grisly job of
all--the head, the woman's head. He had severed it from the trunk, built a
huge fire in the sitting room, placed her head upon it, then (I owe a debt
here to Edgar Wallace, who edited the transcript of the Mahon trial), then the
storm broke with a violent flash of lightning and an appalling crash of
thunder. As the head of Emily Kaye lay upon the coals, the dead eyes
opened, and Mahon fled out to the deserted shore. When he nerved himself
to return, the fire had done its work. The head was never found..."