He could not be sure of the voice, but he had an unwelcome feeling that it was not Siebold he had hit, but his sole remaining companion.
If that was the case, luck was certainly against him, for Siebold was the only one remaining who had a revolver.
But if Grantley’s assistant was still on his feet—which later proved to be the case—he had no time to fire again, for one of the three men still in the operating room relieved him of that responsibility.
It was Doctor Willard, the man with the reddish hair, who was one of the two whom Cooke had pointed out to Nick.
Just after Patsy had fired at random, and while he was listening for the effect of his shot, Willard swung aloft the heavy chair across the back of which he had been leaning, and let it fly straight at Patsy’s head.
By some strange freak of chance it cleared the narrow doorway and struck its mark fairly and squarely in the chest.
Patsy had seen it coming, but the distance between him and Willard had been too short to allow him to dodge, even if he had wished to abandon his vantage point in front of the door.
He counted on its striking the doorjamb, and, by the time it hurtled through the opening without touching the side, it was too late to guard himself.
Both of his weapons went off as the chair struck him, owing to the unconscious tightening of his fingers on the triggers, but the shots went wild.
The impact was a vicious one.