“Keep cool!” whispered the Phantom. “And whatever happens, stay right at my back.”
He watched Bimble’s pistol out of one eye, while with the other he followed Wilkes’ movements. For an instant, as Wilkes swung the heavy weapon over his shoulder, he tensed his muscles for action. Then, with a motion so swift that the eyes of the onlookers could scarcely register it, his arm darted out and gripped the other’s wrist just as the revolver was about to crash down on the Phantom’s head.
Once more his arm shot out and with a quick and powerful wrench he swung Wilkes directly in front of him, coiling the fingers of one hand around the man’s neck and windpipe. In almost the same instant he whipped out his pistol and, using the bulky figure of Wilkes as a shield, took aim and fired.
Bimble uttered a sharp yell of pain. The pistol dropped from his fingers, and he looked dazedly at his blood-spattered hand.
“Fairly good shot!” ejaculated the Phantom with a chuckle. At his back was Helen, trembling with excitement, and in front of him stood Wilkes, spluttering and gasping for breath as a result of the Phantom’s clutch at his throat.
The whole episode had been enacted within the space of a few seconds. The Phantom had acted so swiftly and taken them all so completely by surprise that on one had had time to interfere. Now, before the men huddled against the wall and in front of the stairs could gather their wits, a powerful shove sent Wilkes sprawling headlong to the floor, and in another moment the Phantom had seized Helen’s hand and made a rush for Bimble.
He snatched up the pistol the doctor had dropped as the bullet struck his wrist, and handed it to Helen.
“Shoot the first man who makes a move,” he directed, “and shoot to kill!”
Helen looked into his cool, determined eyes, flashing with the ecstasy of combat. With a faint audacious smile on her lips, she drew herself up and handling the weapon with the sure touch of an expert, faced the staring and muttering crowd. For a few moments the men stood immobile, as if the swift succession of events had cast a numbing spell over their bodies and minds; then, with ominous grumblings and curses, a few of the more daring ones started forward.
In the meantime the Phantom had jabbed his pistol against Bimble’s body with a force that brought a sickly groan from the doctor’s lips. He glanced aside out of the corner of an eye as a crack and a gleam of fire issued from Helen’s weapon. A bullet in the fleshy part of the hip had checked a furtive movement on the part of one of the gang, and instantly the others, impressed by the girl’s exhibition of marksmanship, fell back.