Bosker, the man who had gone to investigate, had been killed by a single shot. Bill, the gangster who had gone to the door, had been shot by the mysterious stranger who had turned out the lights and opened fire.
When the gangsters had responded, the stranger had no longer been there; but Bill’s inert form had received its quota of bullets. His own pals had killed him!
Luke Romano was the third who had been killed. His body had been found huddled in a corner near the doorway. Ernie remembered that corner. He had seen a revolver spurt, and had fancied that it was the stranger’s gun. He had fired in return.
He had killed Romano, himself! Luke was a useful man. It was too bad!
What the newspapers did not give was the toll of injuries. Three of the nine men had been killed; three had been wounded; only three had escaped unscathed.
Ernie was one. “Big Ben” Hargins, the dock walloper, was another. The third was Geek, the watcher in the hall.
Geek had taken a haymaker on the chin. He had been completely out during the battle; but he had come to his senses when Ernie and Big Ben had lifted him up, after they had been unable to find their adversaries.
THE shooting at the panel had brought a flock of tough waiters — the Club Drury possessed a horde of professional bouncers on its pay roll — but Ernie and the remainder of his mob had made a get-away through an exit at the other end of the corridor.
Ernie had held the waiters at bay with his threatening automatic, while Big Ben and Geek had helped three crippled gunmen to safety.
Then Ernie had followed.