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.