Then, from the banisters above, Neeland and Sengoun saw Brandes,

moving stealthily, swiftly, edge his way to a further door.

Steadying the elbow of his pistol hand in the hollow cup of his left

palm, his weapon level, swerving as his quarry moved, he presently

fired at Golden Beard and got him through the back. And then he shot

him again deliberately, through the body, as the giant turned, made a

menacing gesture toward him; took an uncertain step in his direction;

another step, wavering, blindly grotesque; then stood swaying there

under the glare of the partly shattered chandelier from which hung

long shreds of crystal prisms.

And Brandes, aiming once more with methodical and merciless precision,

and taking what time he required to make a bull's-eye on this great,

reeling, golden-crowned bull, fired the third shot at his magnificent

head.

The bronze Barye lion dropped from Golden Beard's nerveless fist; the

towering figure, stiffening, fell over rather slowly and lay across

the velvet carpet as rigid as a great tree.

Brandes went into the room, leaned over the dying man and fired into

his body until his pistol was empty. Then he replaced the exhausted

clip leisurely, leering down at his victim.

There was a horrid sound from the stairs, where Curfoot and another

man were killing a waiter. Strange, sinister faces appeared everywhere

from the smoke-filled club rooms; Stull came out into the hallway

below and shouted up through the stair-well: "Say, Eddie! For Christ's sake come down here! There's a mob outside

on the street and they're tearing the iron shutters off the café!"

Curfoot immediately started downstairs; Brandes, pistol in hand, came

slowly out of the club rooms, still leering, his slitted, greenish

eyes almost phosphorescent in the semi-obscurity.

Suddenly he caught sight of Ilse Dumont standing close behind Sengoun

and Neeland on the landing above.

"By God!" he shouted to Curfoot. "Here she is, Doc! Tell your men!

Tell them she's up here on the next floor!"

Sengoun immediately fired at Brandes, who did not return the shot but

went plunging downstairs into the smoky obscurity below.

"Come on!" roared Sengoun to Neeland, starting forward with levelled

weapon. "They've all gone crazy and it's time we were getting out of

this!"

"Quick!" whispered Neeland to Ilse Dumont. "Follow me downstairs! It's

the only chance for you now!"

But the passageway was blocked by a struggling, cursing, panting

crowd, and they were obliged to retreat into the club rooms.

In the salle de jeu, Ali Baba, held fast by three men dressed as

waiters, suddenly tripped up two of them, turned, and leaped for the

doorway. The two men who had been tripped scrambled to their feet and

tore after him. When they reached the hallway the Eurasian was gone;

but all of a sudden there came the crash of a splintered door from the

landing above; and the dim corridor rang with the frightful screaming

of a woman.




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