A voice startlingly close made them hug the wall. "Is that you, old man?" it called. "What do you want me to do?"

"Come out. And put your hands above your head."

"I haven't a torch, old man. I can't see a thing."

"Be careful, sir," Bates said.

"Get flat against the wall. He won't shoot at me," Martins said. He called, "Harry, I'm going to shine the torch. Play fair and come out. You haven't got a chance." He flashed the torch on, and twenty feet away, at the edge of the light and the water Harry stepped into view. "Hands above the head, Harry." Harry raised his hand and fired. The shot ricochetted against the wall a foot from Martins' head, and he heard Bates cry out. At the same moment a searchlight from fifty yards away lit the whole channel, caught Harry in its beams, Martins, the staring eyes of Bates slumped at the water's edge with the sewage washing to his waist. An empty cigarette carton wedged into his armpit and stayed. My party had reached the scene.

Martins stood dithering there above Bates' body, with Harry Lime halfway between us. We couldn't shoot for fear of hitting Martins, and the light of the searchlight dazzled Lime. We moved slowly on, our revolvers trained for a chance, and Lime turned this way and that way like a rabbit dazzled by headlights: then suddenly he took a flying jump into the deep central rushing stream. When we turned the searchlight after him he was submerged, and the current of the sewer carried him rapidly on, past the body of Bates, out of the range of the searchlight into the dark. What makes a man, without hope, cling to a few more minutes of existence? Is it a good quality or a bad one? I have no idea.

Martins stood at the outer edge of the searchlight beam (Мартинс стоял у внешнего края фонарного луча), staring down stream (внимательно смотря вниз по течению): he had his gun in his hand now (он держал теперь пистолет в руке), and he was the only one of us who could fire with safety (и он был единственным из нас, кто мог стрелять с безопасностью). I thought I saw a movement and called out to him (я подумал = мне показалось, что я увидел движение и крикнул ему), "There (там). There. Shoot (стреляйте)." He lifted his gun and fired (он поднял свой пистолет и выстрелил), just as he had fired at the same command all those years ago on Brickworth Common (точно так же, как он стрелял по той же команде столько лет назад на Брикуорт Коммон), fired as he did then inaccurately (выстрелил, как он выстелил и тогда, неточно = не метясь). A cry of pain came tearing back like calico down the cavern (крик боли раздался в ответ, раздирая, как ситец = словно рвущийся ситец, по пещере): a reproach, an entreaty (укор, мольба). "Well done (хорошо сделано)," I called and halted by Bates' body (крикнул я и остановился у тела Бэйтса). He was dead (он был мертв). His eyes remained blankly open (его глаза остались пустующе открытыми; blank — белый; бледный, бесцветный; пустой) as we turned the searchlight on him (когда мы повернули фонарь на него): somebody stooped and dislodged the carton and threw it in the river which whirled it on (кто-то нагнулся, удалил картонку и кинул ее в реку, которая закружила ее)—a scrap of yellow Gold Flake (обрывок от Золотой Кукурузы; flake — чешуйка, flakes — хлопья; cornflakes— корнфлекс, кукурузные хлопья /подаются к утреннему завтраку с молоком и сахаром/): he was certainly a long way from the Tottenham Court Road (/теперь/ он был /уж/ точно далеко от Тоттенхэм-Корт-Роуд).

I looked up and Martins was out of sight in the darkness (я взглянул наверх/воднял взгляд, и Мартинс был вне поля зрения в темноте): I called his name (я выкрикнул его имя) and it was lost in a confusion of echoes (и оно было потеряно в неразберихе эхо), in the rush and the roar of the underground river (в напоре и реве подземной воды).