Suddenly the curtains parted and Jimmie Kelly entered, behind him three of his men, Mr. Morton and Uncle George. Jimmie saw Slim’s pointed weapon following the pair, waiting its chance; and leaping in he tore it from that deadly hand.
“Steady, Bob,” he cried, “and I’ll get Bradley for you!”
“Keep out of this!” Clifford panted hoarsely. “I’ve got him myself.”
They all stood back and stared at those straining, locked figures. The two seemed hardly to move, so tensely was the force of one set against the force of the other. But slowly, slowly, Clifford forced the right arm of Bradley up behind his back. Then summoning his all of strength, he heaved sharply and mightily upwards, as though he was lifting the very foundations of the house. There was a sharp report, almost as if Slim had shot again. A cry of agony burst from Bradley, and he went staggering across the room, and was saved from falling only by the embrace of one corner. Even so, he swayed on his feet; gasping groans came from his lips; and his right arm hung loosely at his side at a weird angle.
“By God!” Uncle George ejaculated slowly. “I once said that if ever anybody got Bradley, you would be the man—and, son, you certainly did get him!”
Himself reeling, struggling for breath, Clifford gazed at the face of his enemy, pulpy and bleeding and distorted with agony. “Yes, I got him,” he gasped. Dizzily he walked over to Bradley. “I got you this time, Bradley,—I got you at last!”
But the loose figure with the misshapen face did not answer; as a matter of fact, Bradley did not hear. For a moment Clifford, panting, stood gazing on him; then his mind began to recover from the all-engrossing fury which had accomplished and motivated and energized this struggle. It began to return to the larger issues.
He wheeled about. “Yes—I got him. Jimmie, I think you’ll find on him that Mordona necklace. Hand him over to a couple of your men. Yes, I got him,” he repeated. “But I got only the body. The brains got away—Peter Loveman.”
“And Jack?” eagerly put in Mr. Morton.
“He must have gone with Loveman—” And as Clifford answered he was asking himself a vastly more vital question: where was Mary Regan?