“That’s three up,” Conrad said. “I’ve only four more slugs left. What have you got?”
“I’ve a couple of spare clips,” O’Brien said. “You hold your fire and let me take care of this.”
He crawled nearer to the door.
Mallory said “I’ve got it! The sonofabitch didn’t want to come, but it’s come.”
“See if you can find the pencil. Careful how you handle it,” Conrad said, watching O’Brien. “Don’t let them see you, Tom.”
O’Brien fired out into the darkness, cursed under his breath and fired again.
Two machine-guns opened up on him. In the brilliant flashes Conrad saw him suddenly lifted off the ground and swept backwards as if riding a giant wave.
“Get his gun and guard the door,” Conrad said and crawled over to O’Brien. He bent over him trying to see in the darkness. “Tom! Are you hurt?” He knew it was a stupid question. O’Brien had caught the full blast of the machine-guns.
Conrad pulled out his flash-light and shielding it with his coat, he turned it on.
O’Brien looked up at him in the dim light, his face, the colour of putty, was twisted in agony.