The unknown seven A detective story
but he had taken only a step in the direction of the cot when a sharp
command rang out:
“Stop, Ballinger!”
As he spoke, Cole sprang forward and landed a vigorous blow with
his automatic on the right hand of the guard standing nearest to
Englebreth. A pistol dropped from the man’s limp fingers, and with an
instantaneous movement Cole picked it up.
Ballinger jerked up his head, then stopped dead in his tracks, facing
the cot. The cripple whirled round in his swivel chair, a look of utter
consternation flooding his white face as he saw Cole, standing calmly
a foot away, a leveled automatic in each hand. The second guard leaped
forward, but in a moment Cole had him covered.
“Drop that gun!” he ordered, making an ominous gesture with one of his
pistols. “This instant!”
The man’s jaw sagged, and the weapon dropped from his hand. Englebreth,
sitting hunched and shuddering in his chair, stared at the intruder as
if he were seeing a specter.
“You!” he exclaimed in a thin, rasping voice. “You——”
Cole ignored him. His eyes gleamed like points of polished steel.
“Ballinger,” he said in a very calm voice, “I’d rather put a bullet
through your black heart, but I’m going to give you one chance for your
life. See how quickly you can cut Doctor Latham loose. A little speed
may save your life.”
The syringe fell from Ballinger’s trembling fingers. For a moment he
hesitated, then a knife appeared in his hand, and with surprising speed
he slashed the cords around Latham’s hands and feet. A little dazedly
the physician rose from the cot. There was a dull, smoldering fever in
his eyes as he looked at Ballinger. With startling suddenness his right
hand shot out, landing a vicious blow between Ballinger’s eyes.
“There—I promised you that!” he exclaimed grittily. “And you!”
Again his powerful fist darted out, and a splash of crimson spurted
from the region of Englebreth’s nose. With a sigh of vast content he
looked at Cole.
“How in the world did you——”
“Never mind,” Cole interrupted. “Get Carlin on the telephone.” As the
physician started to obey, his cold, narrowing gaze swept each face in
the room. “I’ll shoot the moment any one moves or makes a sound,” he
declared.
His voice had a ruthless ring, and no one moved. Englebreth, breathing
raspingly, was wiping the blood from his face while he squinted at Cole
in a dazed way.
The physician hung up the receiver and stepped away from the telephone.
“I got Carlin out of bed,” he reported. “He will be here in a little
while, and he will bring enough men with him to surround the place.
These human hyenas will soon be where they belong.” He looked about
him with a satisfied expression. “I hope Carlin won’t treat the speed
regulations too tenderly. I’m hungry as the deuce.”
“So am I,” admitted Cole, a trifle absently. The throbbing and pulsing
of machinery sounded remotely in his ears, a muffled hymn of greed
and gold-maddened dreams, soon to be silenced forever. He shrugged,
and a look of fretful responsibility came into his face. “And there
is Toots,” he went on. “I’ve been neglecting Toots lately. Latham,
I’m going to give you a piece of advice, with the compliments of The
Unknown Seven. Keep shy of cats.”
THE END.
Transcriber’s Notes:
• Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
• Text enclosed by pluses is in small caps (+small caps+).
• Text enclosed by equals is in bold (=bold=).
• Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected.