Part 19 (1/2)

Magarth stepped past him to the telephone.

”We'll see what the Sheriff has to say,” he returned, picked up the receiver. He stood for a moment with the receiver to his ear, then he frowned. ”The line seems dead,” he said, rattled the signal-bar, waited a moment or so, then hung up thoughtfully. ”Now, I wonder ? . .”

”Go on, say it,” Staum sneered. ”You think the Sullivans have cut the line.”

”It's likely,” Magarth returned, aware of a sudden tension gripping his nerves. ”I want a gun, Staum,” he went on abruptly. ”If you're not going to do your job, I'll have to do it for you.”

”Who said I wasn't going to do my job?” Staum said, flaring up. ”You watch what you're saying; and you don't get a gun from me. You ain't got a permit.

Magarth controlled his rising temper.

”This bickering won't get us anywhere,” he said. ”Miss Banning saw two men out in the plantation just now. They scared her. Maybe they're not the Sullivans, but at least we can go out there and see who they are.”

”Why didn't you say so before?” Staum returned, led the way to the front door. ”If there're guys snooping about out there I'll fix 'em.” He added after a pause, ”Think the telephone fine's cut?”

”Looks like it,” Magarth said, worried. He followed Staum on to the terrace.

The lone guard, Mason by name, was lolling against the wall, a cigarette in his mouth, his gun held loosely in the crook of his arm.

”Hi, George,” he called when he saw Staum. ”When do I get my supper?”

”You'll have it when I say so,” Staum growled. ”Seen anyone about?”

”You mean the Sullivans?” Mason asked. ”Haw! Haw! No, I guess the Sullivans ain't called just yet.”

”The lady says she saw two men out in the plantation,” Staum went on. ”You been keeping your eyes peeled?”

”You bet,” the guard returned. ”Ain't seen a thing. Maybe the lady was dreaming.”

”Yeah, I guess she was,” Staum returned bitterly, looked at Magarth. ”Satisfied?”

”I'm not,” Magarth said. ”This fella's half asleep. I tell you two guys were seen out there.” He tapped Mason on his chest. ”Keep your eyes open, bud, you're fooling with dynamite.”

”He thinks the Sullivans are going to call,” Staum explained.

”That's terrible,” Mason grinned. ”I hope they keep off until I've had my supper.”

With a hopeless shrug Magarth turned away. Staum followed him.

”Where's the other guard?” Magarth asked.

”Round the back. Want to see him too?”

”I certainly do,” Magarth returned. He was feeling a little scared now. If Staum refused to believe that trouble was brewing, anything might happen.

And something was happening right at that moment at the back of the house. It happened so quickly and silently that Magarth and Staum suspected nothing as they moved along in the darkness.

The Sullivans had reached the terrace. Max carried a long thin steel rod at the end of which hung a noose of piano wire. For a moment they watched the unsuspecting man who was guarding the rear of the building. He was seated on the bal.u.s.trade of the terrace, his legs dangling, his gun lying by his side. He hummed to himself, and every now and then he looked impatiently at his luminous watch. He too wanted his supper.

Max touched Frank's arm. Both men knew exactly what to do. Frank remained still: he held his heavy .45 gun loosely in his hand while Max crept forward, his rubber-soled shoes making sound on the white-paved terrace. He held the steel rod like a man carrying a flag in a procession. When he was within a few yards of the guard he stopped.

The noose of piano wire rose in the air, began a silent descent until it was a foot or so above the head of the guard. Max fiddled with the slack of the wire which he held in his hand, adjusting the noose so that it would pa.s.s over the wide brim of the guard's hat. Then, with a quick movement like a snake striking, Max swished the noose down and dragged the slack. At the same moment Frank, moving like a silent, vicious shadow, sprang forward, s.n.a.t.c.hed up the guard's rifle.

The guard, caught round the throat by the strangling wire, could make no sound, and was dragged over backwards, his legs thras.h.i.+ng, his fingers frantically trying to find a purchase on the wire that was cutting into the soft skin of his throat. He struggled for barely ten seconds before his body went limp and blood ran out of his mouth.

Max loosened the noose while Frank eased the wire from the strangled man's throat. Without wasting a moment, Max collapsed the rod, which telescoped into a length of about two feet, and joined Frank in carrying the guard into the dark garden.

A moment or so later Magarth and Staum turned the corner and walked along the back terrace.

”I don't see him around,” Magarth said abruptly. ”I suppose he's gone to bed or something.”

”He's around somewhere,” Staum snapped. ”He wouldn't leave his post unless I told him.” Raising his voice, he bawled: ”Hey! O'Brien! I want you.”

The two men waited in the darkness. No sound nor movement reached them, and while they waited the Sullivans slipped like shadows to the front of the house, crept towards Mason, who had laid down his rifle to light another cigarette.

”Some guard,” Magarth said angrily. ”I'll raise h.e.l.l about this when I see the Sheriff.

Staum looked worried.

”He should be here,” he muttered, walked to the end of the terrace, bawled again, ”O'Brien!”

”I guess we'll find him in the kitchen,” Magarth said bitterly. He turned sharply, retraced his steps.

The Sullivans had scarcely time to carry Mason away. They had no time to collect his rifle nor his hat, which had fallen off in his death struggle.

”Now Mason's scrammed,” Magarth said, not seeing the glow of a cigarette. ”You there, guard?” he called, raising his voice.

Staum joined him.

”What are you playing at?” he snarled. ”Trying to make out Mason's quit his job?”

”It looks like it,” Magarth said, and felt the hair on the nape of his neck bristle. ”I don't see him around.”

Staum fetched out a powerful flashlight, shot the white beam along the terrace.

The two men stood transfixed as they saw the hat and rifle lying on the white flagstones.

”Mason!” Staum shouted, took a step forward. There was a sudden off-key note in his voice.

”Put that light out,” Magarth said, s.n.a.t.c.hing up Mason's rifle. ”Come on; inside, quick!”

Staum didn't need any urging. Neither of them said anything until Magarth had closed and barred the front door.

”What's happened to them?” Staum asked, shaken.

”I told you the Sullivans were here-do you want more proof?” Magarth said, pushed past the gaping Deputy, ran to the kitchen, which was deserted. He locked and bolted the back door, returned to the hall. ”You stay here and keep your eyes peeled,” he said to Staum. ”I'm going upstairs. They're after Larson, but they're not going to get him. You're the first line of defence. See they don't get you,” and he left Staum, who was now looking scared, and ran up the stairs.

Veda met him on the landing.