Caught athwart the forehead by the missile, Bowen almost crumpled up. Henderson was upon him like a wildcat, beating at him with another cup. Bowen could do no more than clinch.
Locked in each other’s arms, the two men reeled back and forth, smashed over chairs, went crashing into the wall with terrific impact. The shock separated them. Henderson’s arm swept up; the heavy crockery cracked down upon Bowen’s head, struck full against the blood-black bruise Cheadle had given him, and shivered to pieces.
Under that terrific blow, Bob Bowen felt himself going, and going fast. He lunged forward and caught Henderson about the body: A final great wave of strength surged into him, and he threw Henderson over his hip—an old wrestling trick. He saw the man drive head first into the wall—and saw no more. For the second time, his knees were loosened and black darkness engulfed his soul.
When he wakened again, Bowen sat up and looked around dazedly, wondering at the deadly ache in his head. He remembered by slow degrees. He saw Henderson lying across the room, lying in a limp mass. He heard the man’s stertorous breathing. It was the deep, hard breathing of a man badly hurt.
Slowly Bob Bowen came to his feet. Staggering, he came to the table, clutched the bottle of milk, poured the revivifying fluid down his throat. A deep sigh of satisfaction burst from him—and then he remembered. Two o’clock! How long had he lain senseless?
With a groan, Bowen flung himself across the room to Henderson’s side. His fingers trembling, he drew out Henderson’s watch. It was two forty!
A moment later, Bowen seized the telephone and gave the number of Gus Saunders. He waited, frantic with suspense, until he heard the broker’s voice. There might yet be hope! Cheadle might have made mistakes.
“You, Bob? Good Lord!” Saunders’s tone sent his heart down. “We’ve been looking all over town for you—”
“What’s your last report on Apex Crown?” cried Bowen hoarsely. “Has it broken—”
“Broke all to smash at two o’clock. Last report was eight cents here and going down fast. Miss Ferguson is here. You’d better come down and settle up—”