All at once he started and glanced swiftly around, his lounging attitude changing to one of watchful alertness, for he had heard a sound that drew rapidly nearer—the hiss and pant of breath drawn in quick gasps. Silently he arose and turned to see the curtains swing apart and a shapeless something stagger forward and fall heavily. Then he reached out to the switch beside the hearth, and the room was flooded with brilliant light; the figure kneeling just inside the swaying curtains uttered a strangled cry and threw up a hand before his face, a hand dark with spattering blood.
"Oh, Geoff—oh, Geoff!" panted Spike, "I ain't—come thievin' this time—honest t' God, I ain't!"
"Why, you're hurt—what's the matter?"
"They see me down th' road as I came an' shot me, but this ain't nothin'. Out th' lights, Geoff—out 'em—quick!"
But Ravenslee had crossed the room, had seized the lad's arm, and was examining the ugly graze that bled so freely.
"That ain't nothin'—douse th' lights, Geoff—out 'em quick. Bud's coming here close behind—Bud an' Heine—they mean t' plug you—oh, put out th' lights—"
Instinctively Ravenslee turned, but even as he did so Spike uttered a hoarse cry.
"No, ye don't, Bud—not this time, by God!" and sprang upon the form that towered between the curtains; came the sound of fierce scuffling, a deafening report, and running forward, Ravenslee caught Spike as he staggered back; heard a rush and trample of feet along the terrace, the sound of blows and fierce curses behind the swaying curtains, heard the Spider's fierce shout and Joe's deep roar, two more shots in rapid succession, and the swift patter of feet in flight and pursuit.
"How is it, Spike? Are you hurt, old chap?"
But Spike just then was beyond words, so Ravenslee bore the swooning boy to a settee, and laying him there, began to search hastily for the wound.