Part 52 (1/2)

She was at the front window crying for help.

”Jump! For--G.o.d's sake, jump!” he shouted, but she did not obey.

Instead she ran toward the combatants and seized Maruffi's free arm, in a measure checking his effort to break the other man's hold. Her closeness to danger agonized Blake, the more as he felt his own strength ebbing, under that stabbing pain in his side. He centered his force in the grip of his left hand, clinging doggedly while the Sicilian flung his two a.s.sailants here and there as a dog worries a scarf.

Blake fancied he heard a stamping of feet in the hall outside and the sound of voices, of heavy bodies cras.h.i.+ng against the door. Maruffi heard it, too, for with a bellow of fury he redoubled his exertions. A sweep of his arm flung the girl aside; with a mighty wrench of his body he carried Blake half across the room, loosening his hold. Then he seized him by the throat and forced his head back.

[Ill.u.s.tration: He wrestled for possession of the gun]

The shouting outside was increasing, the pounding was growing louder.

Blake's breath was cut off and his strength went swiftly; his death grip on the Sicilian's body slackened. As he tore at the fingers which were throttling him, his left hand slipped, citing to Maruffi's sleeve, and finally began clawing blindly for the weapon. The next moment he was hurled aside, so violently that he fell, his feet entangled in the cus.h.i.+ons with which he had defended himself against the first shot.

He rose and renewed his attack, hearing Margherita cry out in horror.

This time Maruffi took deliberate aim, and when he fired the figure lurching toward him was halted as if by some giant fist.

”Four!” Blake counted. He was. .h.i.t, he knew, but he still had strength; there were but two more shots to come. Then he was dazed to find himself upon his knees. As if through a film he saw the Italian turn away and raise his weapon toward the girl, who was wrenching at the door.

”Maruffi!” he shouted. ”Oh, G.o.d!” then he closed his eyes to shut out what followed. But he heard nothing, for he slipped forward, face down, and felt himself falling, falling, into silence and oblivion.

As O'Connell made his way toward St. Phillip Street he nursed a growing resentment at the news Norvin Blake had given him. His feeling toward Caesar Maruffi had all the fierceness of private hatred, calling for revenge, and he considered himself ill-used in that he had not even been permitted to witness the arrest. He knew Maruffi's countrymen would be likely to make a demonstration, and he was grimly desirous of being present when this occurred.

As he neared the heart of the Italian section he saw a blue-coated officer running toward him.

”What's up?” he cried. ”Have the dagoes started something?”

”Maruffi was pinched, but he got away,” the other answered. ”Johnson is hurt, and--”

O'Connell lost the remaining words, for he had broken into a run.

A crowd had gathered in front of a little shop where the wounded policeman had been carried to await the arrival of an ambulance, and even before O'Connell had heard the full story of the escape Acting-Chief O'Neil drove up behind a lathered horse. He leaped from his mud-stained buggy, demanding, hoa.r.s.ely:

”Where is he--Maruffi?”

Officer Dean, Johnson's companion, met him at the door of the shop.

”He made his break while I was 'phoning you,” he answered.

”h.e.l.l! Didn't you frisk him?” roared the Chief.

”Sure! But we missed his gun.”

”Caesar carries it on a cord around his neck--n.i.g.g.e.r-fas.h.i.+on,” briefly explained O'Connell.

Dean was running on excitedly: ”I heard Johnson holler, but before I could get out into the street Maruffi had shot him twice and was into that alley yonder. I tried to follow, but lost him, so I came back and sent in the alarm.”

The Acting Chief cursed under his breath, and with a few sharp orders hurried off the few officers who had reached the scene. Then as an ambulance appeared he pa.s.sed into the room where Johnson lay. As he emerged a moment later O'Connell drew him aside.

”Maruffi won't try to leave town till it's good and dark,” he said.

”He's got a girl, and I've an idea he'll ask her to hide him out.”

”It was his girl who turned him up--she and Blake--”