Suddenly, a frightful scream rang out. All five rushed forward. Another scream, followed by cries of despair.
"We're here! We're coming!" shouted the eldest, who was leading.
And, as it was a roundabout way to the door, he smashed in a window with his fist and sprang into the old people's bedroom. The room next to it was the linen-room, in which Mother Goussot spent most of her time.
"Damnation!" he said, seeing her lying on the floor, with blood all over her face. "Dad! Dad!"
"What? Where is she?" roared old Goussot, appearing on the scene. "Good lord, what's this?... What have they done to your mother?"
She pulled herself together and, with outstretched arm, stammered:
"Run after him!... This way!... This way!... I'm all right ... only a scratch or two.... But run, you! He's taken the money."
The father and sons gave a bound:
"He's taken the money!" bellowed old Goussot, rushing to the door to which his wife was pointing. "He's taken the money! Stop thief!"
But a sound of several voices rose at the end of the passage through which the other three sons were coming: