Most of Kells’ face was dark with dried blood. His eyes were glazed, insane. He said: “Anybody else?”
He swayed. He moved slowly toward Rose. Swanstrom was staring at O’Donnell; Swanstrom stood up, and in the same instant someone knocked heavily on the door, the knob rattled. Someone shouted outside. Kells moved toward Rose. His cold eyes and the slim blue barrel of the revolver were focused on Rose’s belt buckle.
Rose licked his full lower lip, and sweat glistened on his dark forehead. He put one hand into his inside pocket and took out the folded sheaf of hundred-dollar notes, held them towards Kells.
Kells took them, nodded. He grinned, and the grin was a terrible thing on his bloody face. He backed slowly, carefully to the door through which he had entered, said, “First man through gets one in the guts,” backed out and closed the door.
He went swiftly to the hatchway, down. The man who had been asleep had gone. Kells went through the passageway to the little man, lighted a match and saw that he was conscious.
His eyes were open behind the thick glasses and he smiled up at the flare of the match, kicked viciously at Kells’ knee.
Kells said: “Now, now — Garbo.”
He gripped the little man by the collar and dragged him along the passageway. There was sudden faint light at the after end and he waited until a shadow came into the light, shot at it once, twice. The sound was like thunder in the narrow space.
They went on laboriously, Kells dragging the little man, the little man cursing him softly, savagely. The after end of the passageway was dark now. Kells sucked in breath sharply. There was acrid smoke in the darkness — something more than the smell of black powder. It was like burning wood. Kells pressed his body against the bulkhead, risked another match.
A little way ahead there was a large rectangular port — a coaling port — in the ship’s side, another on the inboard side of the passageway. The match flickered out and Kells edged forward, felt in the darkness for the big iron clamps. They were stiff from disuse but he strained and tugged until all but one were unscrewed, laid back. The last he hammered with the butt of the revolver until it gave; thrust all his weight against the plate. It creaked, swung slowly outward.