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He would get out, he must get out, at all hazards! Suddenly the woman began to scream, with harsh and piercing cries that seemed to rip the very atmosphere. At the third scream, or the fourth, the key was turned and the door jerked open. In its aperture, three men stood the two who had been so long trailing Gabriel, and a policeman, burly, red-jowled, big-paunched. Gabriel stared at them.
I can still see, distinctly enough to count them, the rows of sallow-faced men and women with their hacking concert cough, casting looks of livid venom at Sears sitting by the open window on the front bench, a great red-jowled man who was regarding the figure in the pulpit with such a blaze of fury one might have inferred that he had already swallowed a shovelful of live coals.
Mr. Burkhardt sat up, shook himself of sleep. "Little chilly," he said, and in carpet slippers and unbuttoned waistcoat moved over to the base-burner, his feet, to avoid sloughing, not leaving the floor. He was slightly stooped, the sateen back to his waistcoat hiking to the curve of him. But he swung up the scuttle with a swoop, rattling coal freely down into the red-jowled orifice.
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