I was blinking in a glare of blinding light, from the suddenly illuminated chandelier, my hands high above my head, and staring into the unwavering muzzle of a large and efficient-looking automatic. The owner of the gun stood just inside the doorway, with two other men flanking him on either side—and a very determined and formidable trio they looked.
In the pause that followed I had time to recognize Vining, from Moore’s description, as the man with the gun. I had also time to wonder what had become of my reënforcements in the shape of Larry. Obviously the next move was in either his hands or Vining’s, for I was effectually covered.
“Drop one hand and take off that mask!” Vining snapped.
I was silent and made no move.
“Won’t, eh?” he snarled. “Don’t forget that I’m perfectly justified in killing you where you stand. Just a little pull on this”—he curled his finger suggestively around the trigger for my benefit—“and you’ll be very little trouble, my friend. Are you going to take it off?”
The three men were just inside the door. But as Vining spoke he took a step forward into the room and toward me, and his companions came forward with him. The light switch was on the wall, just inside the door, and as Vining advanced I saw a hand steal through the doorway and along the wall in the direction of the switch. Then Larry’s black poll appeared and he beckoned me with his other hand, but he did not turn the switch at once.
Vining swore. “—— him! Take that mask off and search him!” he said to his two satellites, who were standing, waiting for orders.
I glanced at the two men and wondered. They were swarthy and foreign, with high cheekbones—distinctly Slavic. But as they stepped toward me, a great many things happened at once.
For one thing, Larry came fully into view. He had a small rug in his hand. He stepped silently as close as he could to Vining and still reach the switch. Then at one and the same moment the rug sailed over Vining’s head, the light went out, my fist connected with one Slavic jaw, while with my other arm I caught the other assistant around the middle to act as a shield in case Vining’s gun went off. And Larry must have caught Vining from behind, for another loud crash from the other side of the dark room accompanied the bang with which my first victim brought up against the floor. I threw the second Russian down by means of the cross-buttock, with which simple expedient he did not seem familiar, judging by the way he literally fell for it. Then I stumbled over the first Russian and blundered into Larry in the doorway, and together we fled for the front door and the outside world, Larry chuckling richly under his breath.
As we crowded through the front door, there came the roar of somebody’s revolver from the room behind us and a scream of pain—and Larry broke into open laughter.