Ken watched him through the crack between the hinges end of the door and the door-post. He held his breath as Tux suddenly jerked out a snubnosed automatic from inside his coat.
Tux turned the handle and kicked the door wide open.
Over his shoulder, Ken could see Johnny backed up against the opposite wall, his face waxen.
“Hello, Johnny,” Tux said softly. “Who unlocked the door?”
“How do I know?” Johnny said hoarsely, staring at the gun. “Maybe O’Brien forgot to lock it. What does it matter? I’m leaving, anyway.”
“That’s right,” Tux said, and he slipped the gun back into his hip pocket. “You’re going on a hell of a long journey.”
Ken began to creep across the passage towards him.
The boss is sick of you, Johnny, and I don’t blame him,” Tux said. “I’ve got a barrel for you and a snug-fitting cement overcoat.”
“You wouldn’t do that to me I” Johnny gasped, his eyes bolting out of his head. “O’Brien wouldn’t stand for it! Keep away from me I”
Ken jumped forward and aimed a violent blow at Tux’s head with the bottle, but Tux was too quick for him. He heard Ken’s movement behind him and the swish of the descending bottle and he ducked sideways.