Two powerful men leaped upon Mackin at the foot of the stairs. He twisted free, and felled one with a well-directed punch. The other fired two shots, but his aim was ruined by the stroke of Mackin’s arm.
In a flash, Reds seized the gun from the thug who had fallen. Turning, he shot his other antagonist.
Up the stairs went Reds Mackin, two and three steps at a leap. As he reached the top, a heavy man pounced upon him, and wrested the automatic from his grasp.
Reds was momentarily overpowered; then he wrestled with his opponent. He broke free, and came to his knees. As the big man loomed above him, Reds delivered a punch in the stomach.
His antagonist sagged. Reds gave him a strong push, and the huge fellow went backward down the stairs. Reds rose, and picked up the gun.
The door of the little room was open. Reds Mackin laughed as he entered. He calmly closed the door, and turned on the light.
In the corner stood a cold-faced thug, his automatic covering Reds Mackin. Before Mackin could raise his own gun, the other man pressed the trigger of his revolver.
The room seemed to tremble with the explosion. The soft-nosed bullets found their mark in the body of Reds Mackin.
The grim murderer chuckled as the racketeer crumpled to the floor. He coolly surveyed the distorted body; then he extinguished the light, and left the room through the window.
The police were in the street. They had come following the first sounds of the machine gun.