Ianthina
Before connecting Ianthina’s last words with an investigation he clumsily beat his faithless mistress into unconsciousness. A pale consumptive called Dottle she did not put up much of a fight and he left her far from satisfied. Thirsty from all the shouting the fastidious professor drove into town and on the way he improved his mood slightly by running down a tiny misshapen infant that was sitting meekly in the gutter. Years afterwards she would have led a splendid revolution to free the common people of the world from their wicked oppressors but now impatient gulls quarrel over her cold little body. A bitter end for Baby Iodine.
Anyway Wilfrid was whistling cheerfully when he pulled up to the Lorelei a faded bar home to the vulgar the defeated and the transparent a precipitous spot to lean over an intoxicating refreshment before continuing the march downward. Hostile stares met the widower. Having obtained a strong drink at a small cost he took a seat by a low stage in the back and sipping slowly glanced round the tavern with a feeling of exuberance. After all he thought his life would be easier. No more savage bickering over the least fault or the most trifling remark. No more sneaking off to Dottle’s bed. Now that you mention it the expense of spoiling a mistress was ridiculous so he did some quick calculations and she too was left behind to die coughing wetly in the darkness of her chilly little room. Good riddance! said he holding up his glass in a lonesome toast to the cheated women.
