The suspended violin twisted slowly round on the slim thread. Tattered music scores littered the pink linoleum; snatches of half remembered melodies hummed in his head.He lifted his heavily bandaged right hand stroking the ancient Guarnerius. "If not me, then no-one." he whispered striking the match. He watched as the final, charred embers fell into the open, waiting case. Then he snapped it shut; locked the attic behind him and pushed the key back into the room. His sister found him later at the foot of the stairs; a snake of knotted scarves linked him to the bannister rail.