"Get out, damn you," he cried. "I told you to beat it."
"Tried to get girl," Boris panted. "Gregory man there too. I kill him."
Mascola looked hastily about. When Boris had ceased mumbling, the Italian ordered after a moment's consideration: "Shut up. Go down to my dock the back way. Get on the Lura. Wait there for me."
As the Russian slouched down the street, Mascola reopened his door and went into his office. Then he got Ankovitch on the phone.
"Come down to the boat right away," he ordered. "I want you to get right out."
Day was breaking when McCoy stood with Dickie Lang on the steps of the Lang cottage. The bullet had been found and removed. Kenneth Gregory was resting as well as could be expected. There was danger only through blood-poisoning. The patient was young and strong and should recover. The doctor from Centerville had just left after agreeing with the local physician's diagnosis.
"And now," McCoy was saying, "as there is nothing more I can do here I'll go back to town. It will sure be up to me from now on."
Dickie put a hand on his arm and looked earnestly into his eyes.
"It will be up to both of us, Jack. We've simply got to keep things going for him. I might have saved him. Now it's up to me to make good."