“Spy! Spy! Spy!” cried a new voice.
It came from behind the bar. An instant after, the owner of the voice leaped up on the counter. It was Felix Marchand. He had entered by the door behind the bar into Barbazon’s office.
“When I was in India,” Marchand cried, “I found a snake in the bed. I killed it before it stung me. There’s a snake in the bed of Manitou—what are you going to do with it?”
The men swayed, murmured, and shrill shouts of “Marchand! Marchand! Marchand!” went up. The crowd heaved upon Ingolby. “One minute!” he called with outstretched arm and commanding voice. They paused. Something in him made him master of them even then.
At that moment two men were fiercely fighting their way through the crowd towards where Ingolby was. They were Jowett and Osterhaut. Ingolby saw them coming.
“Go back—go back!” he called to them.
Suddenly a drunken navvy standing on a table in front of and to the left of Ingolby seized a horseshoe hanging on the wall, and flung it with an oath.
It caught Ingolby in the forehead, and he fell to the floor without a sound.
A minute afterwards the bar was empty, save for Osterhaut, Jowett, old Barbazon, and his assistants.
Barbazon and Jowett lifted the motionless figure in their arms, and carried it into a little room.