I must drink your heart's blood now! Now! A-h-h-h!" His voice rose in a wild cry, weird and terrible.

He raised his knife high, but as it fell the Dalmatian, who had been amusing himself battering the Polak about during these moments, suddenly heaved the little man at Kalmar, and knocked him into the corner.

The knife fell, buried not in the heart of Rosenblatt, but in the Polak's neck.
There was no time to strike again.

There was a loud battering, then a crash as the door was kicked open.
"Hello! What is all this row here ?" It was Sergeant Cameron, pushing his big body through the crowd as a man bursts through a thicket.

An awed silence had fallen upon all, arrested, sobered by that weird cry.