An instant
later he was in the hall. Like a cat he sped past the still closed
doorways beyond and reached the stairway before a human being appeared
in sight.
Half-way down stairs he met men rushing upward, attracted by the
pistol shot. He actually tried to clear their heads in a frantic leap.
He was caught in the air, struggling and kicking furiously, to be
borne down and held by strong arms. Shrieking with rage and terror, he
fought like a wild cat.
"I didn't do it!" he screamed, over and over again, foaming at the
mouth. "It wasn't me! It wasn't me! Oh, God! Oh, God!"
Some one struck him a violent blow on the mouth. The foam was red from
that time on. In the hallway above there were shouts and the sounds of
rushing footsteps. Loud oaths of amazement came ringing down the
corridor. A man in his shirt sleeves appeared at the top of the
stairs, his face livid with excitement.
"Hang on to him!" he shouted. "Don't let him get away. We've got the
other one!"
"What's the matter up there?" grunted one of the two officers holding
Ernie, whose feet were now braced against the steps in the effort to
keep them from dragging him upward.
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