So brief and intense had been the struggle that even now he could hardly believe in its reality.

It seemed impossible, too, that the struggle had not been heard.

Then he realized dully, as a louder roll of thunder smote on his ears, that the elements themselves had played into his hand.

The storm, with its wind and fury, had returned just in time to save him and drown out all sounds of conflict from the rest of the house with its giant clamor.
He bent swiftly over Anderson, listening to his heart.

Good--the man still breathed; he had enough on his conscience without adding the murder of a detective to the black weight.