"I shivered, looking toward the street, where up the alley through the tunneling dark, three mounted policemen loomed beneath the circular, snow-sparkling beam of the street lamp, grasping their horses by their bridles, the heads of both men and animals bent close, as though plotting; the leather of saddles and leggings shining. Three white men and three black horses. Then a car passed and they showed in full relief, their shadows flying like dreams across …showed first 75 words of 1317 total…

…showed last 75 words of 1317 total… clearly and in growing magnitude. It was not suicide, but murder. The committee had planned it. And I had helped, had been a tool" (pg 553). It is uncanny the way that his submission stares him the face, yet he blindly runs further into it without blinking an eye. His whole career was not even that; he was a pawn for the Brotherhood to move around, a horse for them to command and ride upon.