The outskirts of the Grand Palais were long and dark. On one side of the slums, the light from the glass shined only faintly, leaving it in endless twilight. In the waking hours the streets were dusty and crowded, but at night the dust settled and the streets became damp and quiet. A man liked to walk in the streets at night to see the difference. Around the corner he noticed a flickering red glow and he went to see it. A building was on fire, and smoke rose out of the broken windows. He looked closely at it. There was nothing left on the front of the building, but it looked like a bar. The man stood on the other end of the street and watched. The fire warmed the air where he stood and lit the dark street. He sat on the curb and smiled.
"Could be arson," he said. "Although I wonder."
"Could be arson," he said. "Although I wonder."