Mellon seemed to sense him, for he jumped sideways, out of Mike’s way, and kicked backward at the same time, catching Mike on the shin with his heel.
Von Liegnitz had made it to his feet by this time and was blocking the downward swing of Mellon’s arm with his own forearm. His other fist pistoned out toward Mellon’s face. It connected, sending Mellon staggering backward into Mike the Angel’s arms.
Von Liegnitz grabbed the spanner out of Mellon’s hand and swung it toward the medic’s jaw. It was only inches away when Keku’s hand grasped the navigator’s wrist.
And when the big Hawaiian’s hand clamped on, von Liegnitz’ hand stopped almost dead.
Mellon was screaming. “You ——!” He ran out a string of unprintable and almost un-understandable words. “I’ll kill you! I’ll do it yet! You stay away from Leda Crannon!”
“Calm down, Doc!” snapped Mike the Angel. “What the hell’s the matter with you, anyway?”
Von Liegnitz was still straining, trying to get away from Keku to take another swipe at the medic, but the huge Hawaiian held him easily. The navigator had lapsed into his native German, and most of it was unintelligible, except for an occasional reference to various improbable combinations of animal life.
But Mellon was paying no attention. “You! I’ll kill you! Lecher! Dirty-minded, filthy....”
He went on.
Suddenly, unexpectedly, he smashed his heel down on Mike’s toe. At least, he tried to; he’d have done it if the toe had been there when his heel came down. But Mike moved it just two inches and avoided the blow.