Voices were shouting, "Save the Sleeper.

Take care of the Sleeper." A guard stumbled against Graham and hurt his hand by an inadvertent blow of his weapon.

A wild tumult tossed and whirled about him, growing, as it seemed, louder, denser, more furious each moment.
Fragments of recognisable sounds drove towards him, were whirled away from him as his mind reached out to grasp them.

Voices seemed to be shouting conflicting orders, other voices answered.

There were suddenly a succession of piercing screams close beneath them.
A voice bawled in his ear, "The red police," and receded forthwith beyond his questions.
A crackling sound grew to distinctness, and therewith a leaping of faint flashes along the edge of the further ways.