Deliberately he stopped, raised his automatic, and held it steady while he pressed the trigger with 53 the extreme care which a sharp-shooter knows to be necessary ... and a bullet ploughed through the top of the ape’s head.
The little ball vanished, and the ape released his grip suddenly. His chattering died away to an uncertain murmur, the fire went out of his eyes, and he fell to the floor. No bullet had yet actually struck him, for he had whirled into the window from the second-story ledge simultaneously with the barking of the policemen’s rifles and pistols. He had escaped there––but here he was not to escape.
Bentley and Tyler both lifted their voices to shout warnings to the policemen, but their voices were drowned in the savage explosions of a dozen weapons, in the hands of men who probably thought the creature was in the act of charging ... and the ape sprawled on the floor, his legs and arms quivering.
Half a dozen men rushed forward, weapons extended.
“Keep back!” yelled Bentley, rushing in.
He stood over the ape, staring intently at his glazing eyes.
“Tyler,” snapped Bentley, “have everybody fall back beyond earshot.”
Tyler issued the orders. Bentley shouted, “Quickly, quickly!” knowing he had little time.
Then, with Tyler beside him, he knelt beside the ape.