From the interior of the edifice rose the whoopings of brutal
laughter, the crash of breaking furniture, and the mad chase of
dissolute pursuit. When would this diabolical orgy ever wear itself
down? . . . For a long time he was not at all sleepy, but was gradually
losing consciousness of what was going on around him when he was roused
with a start. Near him, on the same floor, a door had fallen with a
crash, unable to resist a succession of formidable batterings. This
was followed immediately by the screams of a woman, weeping, desperate
supplications, the noise of a struggle, reeling steps, and the thud of
bodies against the wall. He had a presentiment that it was Georgette
shrieking and trying to defend herself. Before he could put his feet to
the floor he heard a man's voice, which he was sure was the Keeper's;
she was safe.
"Ah, you villain!" . . .
Then the outbreak of a second struggle . . . a shot . . . silence!
Rushing down the hallway that ended at the stairway Desnoyers saw
lights, and many men who came trooping up the stairs, bounding over
several steps at a time. He almost fell over a body from which escaped a
groan of agony. At his feet lay the Warden, his chest moving like a pair
of bellows, his eyes glassy and unnaturally distended, his mouth covered
with blood. . . . Near him glistened a kitchen knife.
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