I very softly tapped on the ground with the butt of my torch. I made just enough noise for him to think he’d heard something, but not enough for him to be sure. I could see him cock his head, then with a grunt he moved towards me. I waited for him patiently, my muscles tense. Just when I was sure I’d get him, he stopped and stepped back. Maybe his good angel had tapped him on his shoulder. He went back into the room quick and shut the door.
Was I pleased! I couldn’t afford to wait any longer. I told myself I had to go on in there and chance getting into trouble.
Just as I was getting set, I heard the sound of a bell ringing somewhere in the house. That stopped me. I beat it down the passage quick to the room where I had left Gus. He was still lying on his back, dreaming sweet dreams.
The bell rang again impatiently. This was serious. If more of the boys were arriving, it looked like I was in for a siege. I stood by the door, listening. The fat guy finally made up his mind to make the trip. I heard him open his door and step into the passage. I could see the flicker of a torch coming slowly along.
Would he look in and see if all was well here? If he did, I should have to start something. If he didn’t and went downstairs, it might give me enough time to get in that front room and see what was going on in there.
While I was thinking this out, he decided things for me. I saw the handle of the door suddenly move, and I knew he was going to have a look. I had no time to clear Gus out of the way. He lay in full view in the light of the candle. I stepped hastily behind the door and waited. The door opened softly and the fat guy put his head round. It would have been funny if I hadn’t been in such a jam. He just stuck his head round the door and his eyes lighted on Gus.
I didn’t give him a chance to get set. I flung my weight on the panel of the door, crushing his head. He looked like a side-show. His eyes popped and they rolled round until they lit on me.
“Relax, brother,” I said, and hit him on his chin with a nice roundhouse swing that had everything I’d got packed into it.
The punch connected on his button with a crisp click. The jar of the blow ran right up my arm and I lost most of the skin off my knuckles. His eyes went blank and I slackened my weight on the door; down he went like a stricken elephant.
I jerked the door open and stepped over him. The bell rang again furiously, and someone began to drum on the door. I ran my hands over him and found his gun. It was a .45 Smith & Wesson. A nice argument in any rough-house.