Burski saw the hesitation. “He lies, like the police dog he is, to save his skin,” he called. “Look at the weapon in his hand. Some of you will know the police pattern.”
A yell of execration followed this cunning stroke, as the crowd threatened me.
“I took it from him,” I said; but I was not believed and a rush was made at me again.
To stop this I backed up the narrow stairway and levelled the weapon at them. Those in front flinched and hung back at the sight of it.
“Do you want any further proof,” cried Burski. “Is there any leader of the Fraternity here? I can soon convince him.” His cool audacity was wonderful.
A cry was raised from some one; and a pause followed while a new comer elbowed his way to Burski. A shout greeted his coming, and all eyes were upon the two as they interchanged a few words in low tones. What passed I do not know, probably some secret sign was given; and it sufficed.
“This man is one of us,” was the verdict; and at the decision a deafening yell of rage and curses broke out as the mob turned to me again.
“Police spy. Liar. Dog. Down with him!”
“Hear me,” I shouted; but my voice was drowned in the curses of the mob.
Another rush was made at me, to be stopped again by the levelled revolver.