Spurling stood her negro attendant, Caliban; a hideous, misshapen, malicious monster, with broad hunched shoulders, a flat nose, and ears like those of a wild beast, a head too large for his body, and a body too long for his legs. “I am sorry that I have murdered you. ” Sebastian said, though she swore she detected the slightest hint of sarcasm in his voice. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. It was Ennison who for the rest of his visit was quiet and subdued. He—In fact, he—he locked me in my room.
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