"He-e-elp!"

It was a shrill, womanish voice, and as though to mimic it the wind
whistled in the chimney on the same shrill note. Half a minute
passed, and again through the noise of the wind, but coming, it
seemed, from the other end of the yard:

"He-e-elp!"

"Misail, do you hear?" my wife asked me softly. "Do you hear?"

She came out from the bedroom in her nightgown, with her hair down,
and listened, looking at the dark window.

"Someone is being murdered," she said. "That is the last straw."

I took my gun and went out. It was very dark outside, the wind was
high, and it was difficult to stand. I went to the gate and listened,
the trees roared, the wind whistled and, probably at the feeble-minded
peasant's, a dog howled lazily. Outside the gates the darkness was
absolute, not a light on the railway-line. And near the lodge, which
a year before had been the office, suddenly sounded a smothered
scream:

"He-e-elp!"

"Who's there?" I called.

There were two people struggling. One was thrusting the other out,
while the other was resisting, and both were breathing heavily.