Subconsciously the men now running along the dusty road felt the influence of the strange phenomenon but they did not swerve from their purpose. The cries for help had not ceased. They were growing, if anything, more constant, more tragic. Of a sudden they paused then burst forth again in peal after peal of wild, mocking laughter. The man had gone mad! Trampled flowers on the crest of a slight rise by the side of the road marked the spot where he had entered the bushes. The Chief, followed closely by Wayne and the detectives, forced his way through. As they did so the shadows lengthened about them and finally closed over their heads. A heavy vapor seemed to rise from the marshy ground under their feet. There was a sulphuric tang to it that added to the silence of all nature. The mud grew deeper. They picked their steps cautiously, selecting the roots and branches of trees as a footing but halted abruptly as the Chief, who was in the advance, held up his hand. The wild laughter had lessened now and, as they neared the spot from whence it had proceeded, gave place to low, incoherent mumblings. At the Chief's signal those with him peered curiously forward. There was little to see. Only the head and shoulders of the creature known as Peter Grimes. His naturally distorted features were twisted into a mask of unbelievable malignancy. His gleaming eyes were baleful as a snake's and his chattering tongue was releasing such horrible mouthings as none who heard ever wished afterward to recall. He did not see them. He would not have known them if he had. And he was still going down--down--into the pit. Suddenly two blood-curdling cries burst from him. They were cries of fright and abject terror. His eyes rolled in their sockets. He looked fearfully upward. "Babies--babies--git away--quit lookin' at me," he shrieked. A fiery shaft of lightning penetrated the gloom of that death pit. The thunder crashed directly overhead. The detonation brought a gleam of returning reason to the shattered brain of the creature about to meet judgement. The baleful light went out of his eyes but the fear remained. For the first time in all his twisted, warped life Peter Grimes was rational. "Oh, God--" he mumbled, as the mud crept up onto his chin, "I war--awful mean--I didn't know--nawthin'." The shaggy head drooped forward. With one accord, the watchers closed their eyes. When they opened them again the mud was forming little circles where the ogre had disappeared. CHAPTER XXVII MOLLIE IN COMMAND "And the waters covered their enemies; there was not one of them left."--Ps. cvi, 11