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"You will go, nevertheless."
"
I tell you I will not go," exclaimed Cournet.
And with a movement, unexpected as a flash of lightning, he seized the
police spy by the throat.
The police agent could not utter a cry, he struggled: a hand of bronze
clutched him.
His tongue protruded from his mouth, his eyes became hideous, and
started from their sockets. Suddenly his head sank down, and reddish
froth rose from his throat to his lips. He was dead.
Huy and Lorrain, motionless, and as though themselves thunderstruck,
gazed at this gloomy deed.
They did not utter a word. They did not move a limb. The fiacre was
still driving on.
"
Open the door!" Cournet cried to them.
They did not stir, they seemed to have become stone.
Cournet, whose thumb was closely pressed in the neck of the wretched
police spy, tried to open the door with his left hand, but he did not
succeed, he felt that he could only do it with his right hand, and he
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