Juve was watching the unhappy wretch, and could not restrain a word of admiration.
"That man is a brave man! He has not even turned pale! Generally condemned men are livid!"
The executioner's assistants had bound the man upon the plank; it tilted upwards. Deibler grasped the head by the two ears and pulled it into the lunette, despite one last convulsive struggle of the victim.
There was a click of a spring, the flash of the falling knife, a spurt of blood, a dull groan from ten thousand breasts, and the head rolled into the basket!
But Juve had flung Fandor aside and sprang towards the scaffold. He thrust the assistants away, and plunging his hands into the bran that was all soaked with blood, he seized the severed head by the hair and stared at it.
Horrified by this scandalous action the assistants rushed upon the detective.
Deibler forced him backwards.
"You must be mad!"
"Get away!"
Fandor saw that Juve was staggering and seemed about to swoon. He rushed towards him.