The huge hands pressed suddenly. There was brittle crackling, and a rare

violin became kindling. A sob broke from the prisoner's lips. What

to Karlov was a fiddle to him was a soul. He saw the madman fling the

wreckage to the floor and grind his heels into the fragments. Gregor

shut his eyes, but he could not shut his ears; and he sensed in that

cold, demoniacal fury of the crunching heel the rising of maddened

peoples.




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