"Chief!" he cried, repeatedly. "Where are you, Chief?"
No answer.
"And yet," thought Mazeroux, "as he telephoned, he can't be far away."
In fact, he saw from where he stood that the receiver was hanging from its cord; and, going on to the telephone box, he stumbled over bits of brick and plaster that strewed the carpet. He then switched on the light in the box as well and saw a hand and arm hanging from the ceiling above him. The ceiling was broken up all around that arm. But the shoulder had not been able to pass through; and Mazeroux could not see the captive's head.
He sprang on to a chair and reached the hand. He felt it and was reassured by the warmth of its touch.
"Is that you, Mazeroux?" asked a voice that seemed to the sergeant to come from very far away.
"Yes, it's I. You're not wounded, are you? Nothing serious?"
"No, only stunned—and a bit faint—from hunger.… Listen to me."
"I'm listening."
"Open the second drawer on the left in my writing-desk.… You'll find"
"Yes, Chief?"
"An old stick of chocolate."
"But"
"Do as I tell you, Alexandre; I'm famished."
Indeed, Don Luis recovered after a moment or two and said, in a gayer voice:
"That's better. I can wait now. Go to the kitchen and fetch me some bread and some water."
"I'll be back at once, Chief."
