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"
Here
we
are
!
"
The
engine
slammed
to
a
stop
.
Beatty
,
Stoneman
,
and
Black
ran
up
the
sidewalk
,
suddenly
odious
and
fat
in
the
plump
fireproof
slickers
.
Montag
followed
.
They
crashed
the
front
door
and
grabbed
at
a
woman
,
though
she
was
not
running
,
she
was
not
trying
to
escape
.
She
was
only
standing
,
weaving
from
side
to
side
,
her
eyes
fixed
upon
a
nothingness
in
the
wall
as
if
they
had
struck
her
a
terrible
blow
upon
the
head
.
Her
tongue
was
moving
in
her
mouth
,
and
her
eyes
seemed
to
be
trying
to
remember
something
,
and
then
they
remembered
and
her
tongue
moved
again
:
"
'
Play
the
man
,
Master
Ridley
;
we
shall
this
day
light
such
a
candle
,
by
God
's
grace
,
in
England
,
as
I
trust
shall
never
be
put
out
.
'
"
"
Enough
of
that
!
"
said
Beatty
.
"
Where
are
they
?
"
He
slapped
her
face
with
amazing
objectivity
and
repeated
the
question
.
The
old
woman
's
eyes
came
to
a
focus
upon
Beatty
.
"
You
know
where
they
are
or
you
would
n't
be
here
,
"
she
said
.
Stoneman
held
out
the
telephone
alarm
card
with
the
complaint
signed
in
telephone
duplicate
on
the
back
"
Have
reason
to
suspect
attic
;
11
No
.
Elm
,
City
.
--
E.
B.
"
"
That
would
be
Mrs.
Blake
,
my
neighbour
,
"
said
the
woman
,
reading
the
initials
.
"
All
right
,
men
,
let
's
get
'
em
!
"
