"Ah—fly away, my soul!" he screamed with all his might, and bending his head down began to run faster than ever. The cold grey stone wall rose before him. A dull crash, like waves meeting, sounded through the night and died away at once.
Two dark figures rushed up to the wall. They threw themselves on another dark form that lay in a heap, and at once stood up again. People hurried down from the hill, with noise of footsteps and cries, and a piercing whistling.
"Smashed?" asked one of the policemen breathlessly. The other struck a match, and bent down. At his feet lay a quivering hand, and the clenched fingers straightened slowly out.
"The skull's smashed to pieces."
"Ah—yes—see—the brains."
Black figures started up out of the darkness round about.
"Ah—the madman!" said one policeman. His comrade straightened himself up, crossed himself, and still breathless, said in a dull voice:
"Let him—rest in peace—O Lord!"