His imagination again came into vivid play.

He believed that the bench beneath him, the whole cottage, in fact, was quivering before the waves of the air, set in such violent motion by so many great guns.
It annoyed him intensely.

He felt a sort of personal anger against everybody.

It was past midnight of the third day and it was time for the killing to stop.

At least they might rest until morning, and give his nerves a chance.