Shires began to talk rather loudly, and his words seemed forced.
“Well, boys,” he was saying, “there ain’t no two ways about it. What’s going to be done is going to be done and it’s going to be done right. If you’ll keep mum, I’ll spill some more dope.”
A low, hissing whistle came from somewhere. It was a peculiar sound, like the fizzing of a steam radiator. It brought Cliff to instant attention.
It was an old signal that had been used in Sing Sing, during the winter months. It had served as a warning, and as a tip that some one wanted to begin secret communication.
It had been a favorite artifice employed by Nipper Brady. The little man had invented it while working beside a noisy radiator in the shop. Cliff lifted his hand from the knob of the door and looked quickly into the darkened room.
He had acted just in time to see a man enter the room through the half-open outer door.
Cliff made no movement. His brain was working quickly. His right arm was out of view — in fact, he doubted if he was more than scarcely visible to the intruder. Cautiously, he drew his automatic from his pocket.
He realized instantly what had happened. Some one in Ernie’s gang had suspected that there was an eavesdropper. A gunman had been sent to investigate.
A feeling of grimness gripped Cliff Marsland. The man who had entered was somewhere in the room — probably on the other side of the center table. Cliff’s mind went back to a night in France — many years before when just such a figure had come creeping toward him as he lay but a few yards from the German trenches.
He remembered how his hands had gripped the German’s throat — how silent death had taken its victim in the darkness.
The situation was the same tonight, but all was at closer range. Could he succeed as he had done before?
It was his life or the other man’s, that was all! If the investigator did not return; if no sound came from this darkened room, a few precious minutes might be gained while the dining gangsters waited. It was the only hope!
Slowly, Cliff crouched to the floor. He moved toward the table. He left his gun on the floor, where he could reach it, beside the leg of a chair. He was breathing noiselessly, between tense lips, as he crept slowly forward to take his foe unawares!
CHAPTER IX
GUNS PLAY
IT was a matter of inches, now. Cliff knew that the corner of the table would be the meeting point. The man who was threatening him was cautious.
Cliff divined the fellow’s plan. He intended to peer around the corner of the table; to spot Cliff’s form against the light that trickled through the side door and to end it all with one shot.
So Cliff waited for that movement. He was ready to spring his surprise attack the moment that the gangster made his presence known!
The moment came. A head came cautiously into view. Cliff saw the dull gleam of an eye. Instantly his hands shot forward for the man’s neck.
He caught it and heard a gurgle as his victim tried to draw away. The man’s body sprawled upon the floor, writhing like the cobra when the teeth of the mongoose are in its neck.
Cliff swung forward to stop that moving body. An overturned chair would be the signal for a mass attack from the gangsters in the other room.
The man’s right hand was pinned beneath Cliff’s body. In moving forward, Cliff released the hand, but still pinned the arm. In a split-second he realized his mistake.
His opponent was losing consciousness, but he had recovered from the surprise which had accompanied the attack. The man had dropped his automatic, but somehow his clutching fingers managed to grip it as his hand was freed. A cannonlike report resounded through the room! The overpowered man had fired!
There was an immediate response from the waiting gangsters.
It was only a short leap to the door. Forgetting his weakened foe, Cliff sprang to close the barrier. He succeeded just in time.
He pulled the door shut and stood to one side, hanging to the knob. Fortunately, Nipper had left the key in the lock, in readiness for Cliff’s departure. Cliff turned it.
He swung around toward the table. His opponent had risen, automatic in hand. Cliff could barely note the gleam of the weapon.
Death was threatening him. He was helpless; his position known, and no escape! But at that instant, a shot came from the outer doorway. Cliff saw the dim shape of his foeman crumple. The outer door slammed, and a key turned in the lock.
Nipper’s voice came through the Stygian darkness.
“I got him, Cliff! Just in time. I’ve blocked them from the hall. Get ready.”
SOMETHING crashed against the door that led to the room where Ernie Shires and his gang were located. Another crash, and light flashed through an opening.
Nipper fired four quick shots at the door. A laugh came in response. The mobsters had suspected what would happen.
“Drop, Cliff!” came Nipper’s warning.
Staccato shots raked the dark room as the two men lay on the floor. Then came a tremendous crash, and the door shook as its hinges yielded. Nipper fired twice. Again he found no mark.
“Out through the corridor,” suggested Cliff.
“No chance,” replied Nipper grimly. “They’ve got a guy out there, sure. Hang on — somebody’s sure to come in from the club! But they’re makin’ an awful big noise out there on the dance floor!”
He raised himself and emptied his automatic at a form that appeared at the opening in the door. Cliff, reaching forward, found his gun and fired three shots.
There was a jeer from the other room as the form disappeared. They had fired at a coat held up as a ruse.
“I’m outta lead,” complained Nipper. “What a sucker I am!”
“Get that fellow’s gun,” said Cliff.
Nipper reached along the floor. He could not find the fallen gangster’s automatic! Cliff held his own gun in readiness.
A sudden crash came from the door. The bottom swung upward and inward, as though struck by a battering ram. The top hinge gave, and the door fell flat.
Cliff fired at a form in the lighted room. He saw the man stagger away.
He had made a hit, but the situation was hopeless. He and Nipper had drawn back into the room. They could command the other room only at an angle.
The light that entered revealed the body of the man whom Nipper had shot. The gunman’s automatic lay in full view. To reach for it would have been suicide, and Nipper knew it! Back in the other room, Shires and his gang commanded the area before the open doorway.
“If I could only reach that rod!” groaned Nipper.
“I’ve got a couple of bullets left,” responded Cliff.
“Save ‘em! You’ll need ‘em!”
There was a moment of menacing silence as Cliff and his companion awaited the attack that was sure to come. Ernie Shires was cautious; but he could not wait long.
If the gunfire had been heard in the big room of the Club Drury, some one would be sure to arrive immediately. But so far, no rescuers had appeared.
“Where’s Geek?” came the voice of Ernie Shires.
“Out in the hall, watching the other door,” came a reply.
“All right.” Ernie’s voice was confident. “Stand back, gang, and get ready to rush ‘em! Don’t give ‘em time to clip us! Ready?”
The sound of scuffling feet indicated that Ernie’s instructions were being obeyed.
“Just a second,” came Ernie’s voice. “Open the door into the hall, one of you guys, and see that Geek’s O.K.! Then shut it and get back with us!
“All right, Bill! You do it. Ready! When Bill comes back, we do the rush act!”
THERE was a slight pause. Bill was evidently opening the door. Cliff held his automatic tightly. Nipper’s eyes were on the gun that lay by the dead gangster. He was preparing to leap for it when the rush came.