The life slowly left his body, and his eyes
sank deeper in their sockets. Earl Emerson Arthur, was dead.
But a moment later a sound became audible below: the soft rasp of
leather on stone. The orderly was returning.
Purceville reached hurriedly into the dead man's mouth and began to
pull out the soiled cloth, but too late. The orderly turned the final
arc, his head rising above the floor of the landing. . .and he saw.
The scene before him, the events of the entire evening, required no
further explanation.
"You--- You've killed him!"
And though weary to his very bones, the man whirled and flew down the
steps once more. For now his own life was in danger, and the fear of
death worked like lightning on his limbs, still young enough to
respond. It could not occur to him that he was still trapped inside
the tower (as he had realized halfway down), or that all its doors
remained locked to him. He only knew that these men would try to kill
him, and that he still wanted to live.
"What are you waiting for?" bellowed Purceville at his Lieutenant.
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