M THE MURDERER That man locked in an argument with his wife, the young girl screaming at her parents, the youth looking enviously at his friend's lover--how could they not understand they were murderers? M the cripple knew how many people he had killed, mentally, and he felt the murders hanging from his-curved shoulders like ragged clothing. His famous refusal of violence was the natural result of his understanding of his murderousness. He held con- versation with other killers every day, and none of them seemed to comprehend that he was in on the secret. A nation, a world of butchers, he thought to himself, and I, by giving away my apron, my sledgehammer, and my long sharp knife, have become the least-known one, the most secretive . . .