"I WANTED TO DO SOME GOOD.

INSTEAD I COMMITTED MURDER..." “FORGIVE ME, FATHER,

FOR I HAVE SINNED..."

He had heard the sickening words in the cool dimness of the Confessional, but his vows prevented Father Murphy from going to the police.

And even could he go, what could he tell?

Beyond an imagined likeness to the holy picture concept of St. Francis, he could offer no description of the confessor.

He knew only that somewhere in the vast labyrinth of New York City a gentle man was caught in a dark swirling whirlpool-which urged him, in the name of God, to kill ...