The thought darted by, and disappeared without rousing in the darkness of his soul either fear or joy. He looked around wearily. The man in the hat stood on the platform of the car. Melnikov advanced toward him past Yevsey, and Zarubin lay motionless face downward.
"I will shoot you down—everyone of you! Get away from here!" the loud, dry cry was heard from the platform.
But Melnikov stepped across the body of Yakov, seized the fair-haired youth by the waist, and threw him into the street.
"Beat him down—!" he shouted bluntly in a savage voice.
Three revolver shots followed in quick succession. The deaf blows clapped. Someone howled in a long-drawn plaintive cry like an infant.
"Oh, oh, my leg!"
Another man shouted hoarsely with an effort:
"Ah, ah! Hit him on the head! Hey, hey!"
And a thin hysterical voice pealed in ecstasy:
"Tear him to pieces, my dear people. Choke him! Enough! Their time is past! Now we'll give it to them. Now our turn has come—"