Part 33 (1/2)

”You're right, Joe,” she whispered, and turned and went out.

Billy was standing at the stove, a frightened boy, but he gripped the poker in his hand.

”Billy,” said Joe, quietly, ”run down and tell Rann to keep 'em out of the press-room.”

Billy edged to the door, opened it, and fled.

Joe was quite alone. He sat down at his desk and took up the telephone.

”h.e.l.lo, Central!” his voice was monotonous in its lowness and tenseness.

”h.e.l.lo!”

”Give me police headquarters--_quick_!”

Central seemed startled.

”Police--? Yes, right away! Hold on!--Here they are!”

”h.e.l.lo! Police headquarters!” came a man's voice.

”This is Joe Blaine.” Joe gave his address. ”There's a riot in front of the house--a big mob. Send over a patrol wagon on the jump!”

At that moment there was a wild crash of gla.s.s, and a heavy stone sang through the air and knocked out the stove-pipe--pipe and stone falling to the floor with a rumble and rattle--and from the mob rose murderous yells.

So Joe was able to add:

”They've just smashed my window with a stone. You'd better come d.a.m.n fast.”

”Right off!” snapped Headquarters.

Joe put down the telephone, and stepped quietly over the room and out into the hall. Even at that moment the hall door burst wide and a frenzied push and squabble of men poured forth upon him. In that brief glimpse, in the dim storm-light, Joe saw faces that were anything but human--wild animals, eyes blood-shot, mouths wide, and many fists in the air above their heads. There was no mercy, no thought, nothing civilized--but somehow the demon-deeps of human nature, crusted over with the veneer of gentler things, had broken through. Worse than anything was the crazy hum, rising and rising, the hoa.r.s.e notes, the fierce discord, that beat upon his brain as if to drown him under.

Joe tried to shout:

”Keep back! I'll shoot! Keep back!”

But at once the rough bodies, the terrible faces were upon him, surrounding him, pus.h.i.+ng him. He seized a little man who was jumping for his throat--seized and shook the little beast.

”Get back!” he cried.

Fists pushed into his eyes, blows began to rain upon his body and his head. He ducked. He felt himself propelled backward by an irresistible force. He felt his feet giving way. Warm and reeking breath blew up his nostrils. He heard confused cries of: ”Kill him! That's him! We've got him!” Back and back he went, the torn center of a storm, and then something warm and sweet gushed over his eyes, earth opened under him and he sank, sank through soft gulfs, deeper and deeper, far from the troublous noise of life, far, far--into an engulfing blackness.

The flood poured on, gus.h.i.+ng down the stair-way, at the foot of which Rann and his two men stood, all armed with wrenches and tools.

Rann shouted.

”I'll break the head of any one who comes!”

The men in advance tried to break away, well content to leave their heads whole, but those in the rear pushed them on. Whack! whack! went the wrench--the leader fell. But then with fierce screams the mob broke loose, the three men were swept into the vortex of a fighting whirlpool.