Satan's Incubator by Randolph Craig

WILLIAM HAWKINS, Assistant Deputy Commissioner of Sanitation of the City of New York, had shared a silent breakfast with his wife that morning. Miriam's pretty oval face, usually so vivid and cheerful, was a strained mask. Was she feeling it, too, he wondered in sudden panic. She was looking at Emily with little sidelong glances. It was impossible, of course--but it had come without warning into other homes. Why not into his?

Crazy to think of a thing like that, touching him and Miriam and Emily--but weren't the other cases crazy, too? God, when he thought of the way they'd found his aunt. and it was his uncle who'd done it. The children had sworn to that. And then the friends, people William Hawkins had grown up with, and others, senselessly uncountable in numbers, suddenly turning to insane murder and torture, as though love were turning into poison in people's veins! He winced from the drawn anxiety in Miriam's face, the queer way in which she looked at him, not at all the way a woman should look at her husband. Could it be--? And then William Hawkins realized that she was looking at him in exactly the way he was looking at her!