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"
Kill
it
,
kill
it
,
kill
it
.
.
.
"
The
Savage
went
on
shouting
.
Then
suddenly
somebody
started
singing
"
Orgy
-
porgy
"
and
,
in
a
moment
,
they
had
all
caught
up
the
refrain
and
,
singing
,
had
begun
to
dance
.
Orgy
-
porgy
,
round
and
round
and
round
,
beating
one
another
in
six
-
eight
time
.
Orgy
-
porgy
.
.
.
It
was
after
midnight
when
the
last
of
the
helicopters
took
its
flight
.
Stupefied
by
soma
,
and
exhausted
by
a
long
-
drawn
frenzy
of
sensuality
,
the
Savage
lay
sleeping
in
the
heather
.
The
sun
was
already
high
when
he
awoke
.
He
lay
for
a
moment
,
blinking
in
owlish
incomprehension
at
the
light
;
then
suddenly
remembered
–
everything
.
"
Oh
,
my
God
,
my
God
!
"
He
covered
his
eyes
with
his
hand
.
That
evening
the
swarm
of
helicopters
that
came
buzzing
across
the
Hog
’
s
Back
was
a
dark
cloud
ten
kilometres
long
.
The
description
of
last
night
’
s
orgy
of
atonement
had
been
in
all
the
papers
.
"
Savage
!
"
called
the
first
arrivals
,
as
they
alighted
from
their
machine
.
"
Mr
.
Savage
!
"
There
was
no
answer
.
The
door
of
the
lighthouse
was
ajar
.
They
pushed
it
open
and
walked
into
a
shuttered
twilight
Through
an
archway
on
the
further
side
of
the
room
they
could
see
the
bottom
of
the
staircase
that
led
up
to
the
higher
floors
.
Just
under
the
crown
of
the
arch
dangled
a
pair
of
feet
.
"
Mr
.
Savage
!
"
