He moved his right shoulder. I saw a blur of motion. Something hit me on the side of the jaw. The blow jarred me all the way down my spine.
“Try that, wise guy,” he said.
My eyes were jarred out of focus; but I started both fists swinging and waded in. A left landed somewhere on his face. A right grazed his temple, then a mule kicked me. I went back against the machines and felt as though a ten-story building was using me for a basement.
I looked through eyes that kept showing double distorted images of what was happening. I saw the attendant lash out with a quick right, and the weaving shoulders of the other man slid past the blow and inside. I saw his back grow rigid. I heard a meaty sound as though a butcher had slammed a leg of lamb down on the chopping-block. The attendant’s head shot up in the air. His feet left the floor. For a moment, it seemed as though he was taking off like a skyrocket, and I looked to see him go through the roof.
He rocked the whole bank of slot machines as he hit.
I heard a policeman’s whistle, then some big man had me by the arm. He slammed me around some, and I tried to fight back.
A man’s voice came through to my consciousness. “—one of them. We’ve had an eye on ’em for two weeks now. They’ve looted the place clean. Working a cup. It’s a racket.”
“Come along,” the law said. A big hand twisted my coat collar and jerked.
I wanted to talk, but I couldn’t get words to come the way they should. The girl who had been playing the machines and the man who had hit the attendant had gone. The attendant lay on the floor. His eyelids were quivering, and I could see the whites of his eyes beneath those fluttering lids.
There were faces gathered around in a circle of open-mouthed curiosity.