"You called for me," Parker said. "Here I am. Drop the gun!"
Retch snarled, spun, dropping flat as he turned. His eyes were narrowed. They glared at Parker like twin flames of yellow hate. He tried to bring up the gun.
Something came through the air, something that he did not see. It grabbed his arms, clutched them with a fierce grip, screamed at him. Mercedes!
Retch, with one savage thrust, flung her aside. Again the two yellow eyes glared at Parker as Retch brought up the weapon that he held.
"You haven't licked me yet!" Retch screamed.
The gun in Parker's hand exploded.
Suddenly Retch had three eyes. One of them was in the middle of his forehead. It was round and blue.
He stood for a second, transfixed. Something had happened to him. He did not know exactly what it was. He had come here seeking Montezuma's treasure. He had it in the reach of his hand. But something had happened to him. What it was he did not quite know. Something—
He tried to lift the gun he held. His hands would not obey him. Or perhaps the gun had suddenly grown too heavy for him to lift. He could not raise it.
The yellow light in his eyes did not change. But suddenly he collapsed, went down, did not move.