He knew before he slipped his hand over the breast of Diaz that this was death.

Then he rose again and watched the still fingers which seemed to be gripping at the boards.

These he saw, and nothing else, and all he heard was the rattling of the wind of winter, wrenching at some loose shingle on the roof, and he knew that he was alone in the world, for he had put out a life.
He found a strange weight pulling down his right hand, and started when he saw the revolver.

He replaced it in the holster automatically, and in so doing touched the barrel and found it warm.
Then fear came to Pierre, the first real fear of his life.

He jerked his head high and looked about him.