"The first word from any of you gentlemen," he declared, "will draw a shot. I'm doing all the talking here. Savvy?"
They stood staring, paralyzed by this apparition. They had been sitting about a table which was heaped with papers and with packages of money. A large safe in the wall stood open. Beside the table was a small mail sack, partially emptied of its contents; torn envelopes littered the floor.
That this was the headquarters of at least a section of the lottery gang Gramont saw without need of explanation.
"You're under arrest," said Gramont, quietly. "The game's up, Gumberts. Hands up, all of you! Dick Hearne has peached on the whole gang, and from the boss down you're all in for a term in stir. You with the derby! Take Gumberts' gun, and those of your companions, then your own; throw 'em on the floor in the corner, and if you make the wrong kind of a move, heaven help you! Step lively, there!"
One of the men who wore a derby on the back of his head obeyed the command. All five of the men facing Gramont realized that a single shout would call help from outside, but in the eyes of Gramont they read a strict attention to business. It was altogether too probable that one man who dared arrest them alone would shoot to kill at the first false move—and not even Memphis Izzy himself opened his mouth.
Each man there had a revolver or pistol, and one by one the weapons clattered into the corner. Gumberts stood motionless, licking his thick lips, unuttered curses in his glaring eyes. And in that instant Gramont heard the porch steps creak, and caught a low, startled cry.
"Hey, boss! They's a gang comin' on the run——"
It was Charlie the Goog, bursting in upon them in wild haste. Gramont stepped into the room and turned slightly, covering with one of his weapons the intruder, who stood aghast in the doorway as he comprehended the scene.
No words passed. Staring at the five men, then at Gramont, the adenoidal mechanic gulped once—and like a flash acted. He ducked low, and fired from his pocket. Gramont fired at the same instant, and the heavy bullet, catching Charlie the Goog squarely in the chest, hurled his body half across the room.
With the shots Memphis Izzy flung himself forward in a headlong rush. That desperate shot of the little mechanic had broken Gramont's right arm above the wrist; before he could fire a second time, with the weapon in his left hand, Gumberts had wrested the pistol aside and was struggling with him. The other four came into the mêlée full weight.