to scream aloud。 But he mustn't。 He mustn't。 A scream would give him away
and then
（then REDRUM）
（e out here and take your medicine； you fucking crybaby！）
Oh and he could hear the owner of that voice ing； ing for him； charging
up the hall like a tiger in an alien blue…black jungle。 A man…eater。
（e out here； you little son of a bitch！）
If he could get to the stairs going down； if he could get off this third
floor； he might be all right。 Even the elevator。 If he could remember what had
been forgotten。 But it was dark and in his terror he had lost his orientation。
He had turned down one corridor and then another； his heart leaping into his
mouth like a hot lump of ice； fearing that each turn would bring him face to
face with the human tiger in these halls。
The booming was right behind him now； the awful hoarse shouting。
The whistle the head of the mallet made cutting through the air
（roque 。。。 stroke 。。。 roque 。。。 stroke 。。。 REDRUM）
before it crashed into the wall。 The soft whisper of feet on the jungle
carpet。 Panic squirting in his mouth like bitter juice。
（You will remember what was forgotten 。。。 but would he？ What was it？）
He fled around another corner and saw with creeping； utter horror that he was
in a cul…de…sac。 Locked doors frowned down at him from three sides。 The west
wing。 He was in the west wing and outside he could hear the storm whooping and
screaming； seeming to choke on its own dark throat filled with snow。
He backed up against the wall； weeping with terror now； his heart racing like
the heart of a rabbit caught in a snare。 When his back was against the light
blue silk wallpaper with