"Guy N. Smith - Sabat 3 - Cannibal Cult" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Guy N)

a pity where a man like Louis Nevillon was concerned. The two warders just
stared; if they came upon a gory road accident tomorrow they would stop and
look. Blood fascinated them, so long as it was not their own.

'Thank you, gentlemen,' Gallon was the formal national executioner once more.
'Your presence has been a great help to me. The condemned man died quickly and
painlessly.' Unfortunately!

Outside, the crowd had fallen silent. Obscene chanting had died to low
muttered conversation and then petered out altogether. Yvette de Coulon had
been avenged. There was nothing more to stay here for.

Slowly the gathering broke up, began to file away in an orderly fashion. The
watching police bolstered their pistols and breathed an audible sigh of
relief.

The Beast of France was no more. In time the bitter and gruesome memories
would fade. It was all over.

'I say it is impossible!' The prison governor trembled and banged his desk
with a clenched fist, causing an open ink-well to overturn and spill its
blue-black contents. 'It is absolutely impossible. This is some kind of joke
and the perpetrator will be punished!'

'It is no joke, monsieur,' the deputy governor licked his lips nervously. 'I
have been and seen for myself, for, like yourself, I did not believe it at
first. But there is no possible doubt - the corpse of Louis Nevillon has
disappeared from the execution chamber, both head and trunk. All that remains
are a few bloodstains that failed to wash away!'
'But how? And why?

'I wish I knew, monsieur, but I think this is a matter for the Surete.'

An uneasy frightened silence.

*I will come and look.' The governor stood up, a man in his mid-forties who
had suddenly aged considerably. 'Perhaps ... perhaps there is some mistake.'

There wasn't; there could not be because there was nowhere in the execution
chamber where the decapitated .body of Louis Nevillon could be lying hidden.
Ashen-faced and trembling visibly, the governor checked the 'basket', a
stainless steel container below the block with a wide drain fitted at the
bottom. Just some blood which was rapidly congealing, nothing else. The blade
rested where it had fallen, a crimson-splattered chunk of honed steel that
glinted in the harsh electric light, seemed to gloat as though it guarded some
sinister secret. The rest of the room was bare.

'But how?' the governor wrung his hands helplessly. 'Somebody has stolen it.
The guards ...'