We practically burst into the apartment, a flying wedge of policemen, but Kitty Keeler didn t seem to notice. She leaped from her chair, mouth opened, eyes wide and seeing only her husband. Sh~ reached out for George, her bracelets clanging and sliding up her slender arms. She grabbed at his sleeves, then at his shirt front. George Keeler turned away; looked over his shoulder; over her head; looked at the ceiling, the floor, the walls, anywhere, at anything but at his wife. "George," she called to him. Finally, she pounded his chest with a clenched list. "What s wrong, George? What s the matter? My God, George, Georgie, talk to me!" He inhaled slowly and steadily to the fullest , capacity of his lungs. Then, arms dangling at his sides, he looked directly at his wife and in a terrible voice he told her. "They re dead, baby. They re dead. Both boys. Both of them. They re dead."
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