He was barely in time.
The emissary already had Eva in his grasp and was choking her into unconsciousness. The foul habitués of the resort, far from aiding the poor girl, seemed for the first time that day to be showing interest and to be thoroughly enjoying the brutal sight.
With a shout Locke charged. His right swing landed just behind the emissary's ear and the man dropped, pulling Eva down with him. But Locke had her up and behind him in a second.
Three other emissaries appeared as though by magic and attacked him on all sides.
Locke's automatic had been lost when he fell into the cellar. Consequently he grabbed up one of the café chairs, which he wielded like a club.
One emissary had worked around until he was at one side of Locke and almost behind him, a blackjack raised in his hand. But Eva warned Locke in time. Whirling about, he made a full swing with the chair and caught the emissary full in the face with it. The man went down and stayed down.
"Run quick as you can," panted Locke to Eva. "Get the car started."
She was reluctant to leave him, and Locke saw that delay was dangerous. He hurled what remained of the chair into the faces of the last two emissaries, then turned and rushed up the steps, carrying Eva along with him.
A whir of the starter, the throbbing of the engine as the gas in the cylinders ignited, and they were streaking toward Brent Rock, safe.