With that cry, he leaped up, overturning his chair, and made a grab for Shultz’s throat. The latter had likewise risen, and with a sweep of his arm he brushed aside Hooker’s clawlike hand, at the same time driving his fist hard and straight at Roy’s face.
The blow landed with a sickening smack, and Hooker was hurled backward by the force of it, tripping over his upset chair. Both his arms were flung wide in an effort to save himself. His head struck with a thud against the marble mantelpiece, the shock being sufficient to knock one or two bits of bric-a-brac to the floor. Beneath one end of the mantel he collapsed in a heap, with his shoulders against the wall, his head dropping limply over on one of them.
Springer, having failed to seize Shultz in time to check that blow, now grabbed him with both hands and clung fast, panting in his ear:
“For the lul-lul-love of goodness, what have you dud-done?”
With a hissing sound, Shultz drew his breath through his clenched teeth, exposed by his parted lips. His nostrils were dilated, and the rage of an aroused animal blazed in his eyes.
“A fight here!” fluttered Cooper. “Don’t start a fight here!”
“Start one!” said Shultz hoarsely. “I didn’t. He started it. He called me a cheat and a robber. I’ll teach him to apply such words to me!”
“Keep Charley away,” commanded Osgood, quickly kneeling beside the silent figure of the boy who had been struck down. “This is very bad business. Come, Hooker, brace up.” But when he sought to arouse the stricken youth, Hooker’s body simply slid over sidewise with a little scraping sound against the wall, one arm rolling lifelessly across his breast to allow his knuckles to drop with a faint, soft knock upon the thick carpet.
“For the love of goodness!” repeated Springer in a horrified voice. “He lul-looks like a dud-dead one!”
Fiercely Shultz jerked away from Phil’s restraining hands. “You don’t have to hold me,” he rasped. “What do you think I’d do, hit him again when he’s down?”