“It’s because of what’s in this room.” he said, lowering his voice, standing over her again, the windows at his back. “What’s inside it. He shut his eyes briefly, and it seemed to Polly he was suddenly uneasy. When he opened his eyes again, he was staring, not at her, but at the spot on the floor near the windows where they had found Alice. He added, “What’s inside for now. It could escape.”

“Clark?”

He tapped the floor with the heel of his right boot. “What’s beneath us feels solid. People always think that way. The fools! The ground can drop out from beneath you at any moment, and leave you falling forever. Nothing’s real.” He nodded toward the floor, and Polly thought she could see the stains in the wood, even though she knew they had been washed away long ago. “Drops of her blood seeped through the floor.” he said. “They escaped.”

“No.”

“Yes. Alice’s dead blood.” He wiped the back of his hand across his nose and glanced down at her. “Do you know what that means?”