Gabriel stared at them. His mouth opened, then closed again without a word. As well for a trapped animal to make explanations to the Indian hunter, as for him to tell these men the truth. The truth? They knew the truth; and they were there to crucify him. He read it in their cruel, eager eyes.
The woman had stopped screaming now, and was weeping with abandon, pouring forth a tale of insults and abuse and robbery, with hysterical sobs.
Full in the faces of the three men Gabriel sneered.
"You've done a good job of it, this time, you skunks!" he gibed. "I'm on. You'll get me, in the end; but not just yet. The first man through this door gets his head broken—and that goes, too!"
With a snarl of "You damned white slaver!" the officer raised his night-stick and hurled himself at Gabriel.
Gabriel ducked and planted a terrific left-hander on the "bull's" ear. Roaring, the majesty of the law careened against the bed, crashed the flimsy thing to wreckage and went down.
Then, fighting back into the gloom of the trap, Gabriel engaged the two detectives. For a moment he held them. One went to the floor with an uppercut under the chin; but came back. The other landed hard on Gabriel's jaw.
He turned to strike down, again, the first of the two. He heard the bed creaking, and saw the policeman struggling to arise. In a whirlwind of blows, the second detective flailed at him, striving to beat down his guard and floor him with a vicious rib-jolt.
"All's fair, here!" thought Gabriel, snatching up a chair. For a moment he brandished it on high. With this weapon, he knew—though final defeat was inevitable, when reinforcements should arrive—he could sweep a clear space.
Perhaps he might even yet escape! He heard feet trampling on the stairs, and his heart died within him. Well, even though escape were impossible, he would fight to a finish and die game, if die he must!