XXIV
He knocked the pistol out of his hand, small room was there to strive
‘’Twas only by favor of mine,’ quoth he, ‘ye rode so long alive.’
The game was up. Almost on the instant that the shot was fired Berry struck down Belknap’s hand and twisted the gun from him. There was no flicker of resistance on Belknap’s part. Nor would there have been the chance of any if Stebbins had had his way. For the Sergeant was a prey to impulsive rages and quick on the trigger. If Berry, in tackling Belknap, had not had a strong arm for Stebbins, Belknap would have joined Nadia Mdevani in the dust.
“No!” Berry cried sharply. “Not that way. Shooting’s too good for him. And we want the dope.”
Stebbins, like copper wire, cooled off as rapidly as he had heated.
“I’m sorry,” he growled. “It’s just that it’s rank cold-blooded murder to shoot a lady down like that.”
Berry had to laugh.
“Not his first one, Sergeant; you should be used to ’em. Come on, lend a hand.”
They bound Belknap, securely. No more playing with fire. And a swift body-search from head to foot revealed several damning articles of trade: Whittaker’s Diary in an inner pocket; several varieties of poison in neatly labeled pill-boxes; a pair of suède gloves; a very exquisite six-inch dagger with an inlaid handle of silver and lapis; a kit for the designing and manufacture of keys; a veritable armory of revolvers, six; a cunningly contrived combination tool that in its various transformations became a screw-driver, a hammer, an auger and bit, a saw, and God knows what else.