All at once there was a clap of thunder, and the
next thing I was on my face in the street."
"Is your comrade inside?"
"Yes; he and M. Sonne and two customers."
"And the _garcon_, wasn't he there?" cried Dupre, with a note of
disappointment in his voice.
The policeman didn't notice the disappointed tone, but answered--
"Oh, the _garcon_, of course."
"Ah," said Dupre, in a satisfied voice, "let us go in, and help them."
Now the people had begun to gather in crowds, but kept at some distance
from the cafe. "Dynamite! dynamite!" they said, in awed voices among
themselves.
A detachment of police came mysteriously from somewhere. They drove the
crowd still further back.
"What is this man doing here?" asked the Chief.
The policeman answered, "He's a friend of ours; he lives in the house."
"Oh," said the Chief.
"I was going in," said Dupre, "to find my friend, the officer, on duty
in the cafe."
"Very well, come with us."
They found the policeman insensible under the _debris_, with a leg
and both arms broken. Dupre helped to carry him out to the ambulance.
M. Sonne was breathing when they found him, but died on the way to the
hospital. The _garcon_ had been blown to pieces.
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