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him."
The window of the inn was suddenly smashed in, and there was a
screaming and running to and fro in the street. The policeman had
been standing on the settee staring out, craning to see who was at
the door. He got down with raised eyebrows. "It's that," he said.
The barman stood in front of the bar-parlour door which was now
locked on Mr. Marvel, stared at the smashed window, and came round
to the two other men.
Everything was suddenly quiet. "I wish I had my truncheon," said
the policeman, going irresolutely to the door. "Once we open, in he
comes. There's no stopping him."
"
Don't you be in too much hurry about that door," said the anaemic
cabman, anxiously.
"
Draw the bolts," said the man with the black beard, "and if he
comes--" He showed a revolver in his hand.
"
"
That won't do," said the policeman; "that's murder."
I know what country I'm in," said the man with the beard. "I'm
going to let off at his legs. Draw the bolts."
"Not with that blinking thing going off behind me," said the
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