The gangster, big-fisted and crafty-eyed, arose also and advanced to meet his opponent. He made a feint, and shot a swift punch at Dick's ribs.
The Texan warded the blow aside, and swung in with a straight right to the gangster's jaw. The impact was terrific. The man crumpled on the floor.
The other was rising, drawing a gun. Before he could cover Dick with his revolver, the Texan leaped upon him, and the two grappled furiously.
The revolver barked twice, but the shots went by. Getting his right hand free, Dick drove a punch squarely between the gangster's eyes. As the man's grasp weakened, Dick flung him aside. He grabbed for the revolver, but missed. The gunman was scrambling away. Dick did not follow. He had had a chance to make his get-away, but instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small automatic.
He had carried this weapon with him to Rajah Brahman's. He had said nothing of it to Martin Slade. Dick was seeing red. He had no time for parley. Quick as a flash, he fired two shots, and the rising gunman sprawled upon the floor. The gun clattered away. Dick, realizing that he might have killed the man, thrust his automatic in his pocket and opened the door of the room.
He looked quickly about for Martin Slade. He saw no sign of his companion. He realized suddenly that the room was half filled with ruffians, like the ones who had just attacked him. The whole situation dawned in an instant. He had been double-crossed by Martin Slade!
He was in a death trap. The only reason that he had found these men inactive was because they supposed that he not the gangsters — had fallen during the fray in the little room. There was only one chance for escape — the inner room! As he saw a hand rise with a gleaming revolver, Dick made a dive for the door. A shot rang out, but it found its mark only in the woodwork. Dick was safe in the inner room. But now the horde of gangdom was on his trail.
Three husky gangsters were leaping for the barrier, determined to smash their way through the temporary barricade. Dick Terry was safe for the moment, but he could not hope to withstand the odds that were against him now.
Barney Gleason's mob — the group of sullen thugs who used "Black Pete's" place as their hangout, were springing into action. Two of their number had been overpowered by this stranger. The rest were out for vengeance.
Crash!