The pout on his lips grew; he cast startled, inquiring glances
toward the door. And at last, as they stood silent, looking at each
other, there came a sound--close; the sound of a man walking in the
street. As they listened the sound came closer, reached the front of the
building. Then they heard it on the stairs. Warden stiffened, and
Singleton drew his gun. An instant later the door crashed inward, and
Lawler stood in the opening, his eyes flaming with the cold wrath that
had been in them on the day when, after he had killed Antrim, he had
come to Warden's office for a like purpose.
There was no word spoken. Lawler saw the gun in Singleton's hand. He
leaped quickly to one side as Singleton pulled the trigger--the smoke
streak touching his clothing as he moved. He leaped again as Singleton
shot at him a second time. This time he was so close to Singleton that
the powder burned his face. And before Singleton could shoot again
Lawler struck--with the precision and force that he had put into his
blows that day in the schoolhouse.
Singleton reeled headlong across the room, bringing up against the
farther wall, striking it with his head and tumbling to the floor beside
it.
Then, his lips set stiffly, his eyes flaming with a fire that brought
terror into Warden's heart, he faced the other.
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