"
Porter had heard nothing, but was wide awake, watching by the light of
the lamp that hung at the head of the stairway. And after a caution to
vigilance I returned to my chair.
For half an hour I listened closely. The men were open-eyed but silent.
The storm kept up its mournful murmur, but no sound that I could
attribute to man came to my straining ears.
Suddenly there was a cry from the hall.
"Who's there?" It was Porter's voice.
An instant later there was a crash of glass, an explosion seemed to
shake the house, and there was a rush of many feet.
I leaped to the door and flung it open, Lockhart, Wilson and Brown
crowding close behind me. A body of men filled the hallway, and Porter
was struggling in the hands of three ruffians. His revolver, whose shot
we had heard, had been knocked from his hand and lay on the floor.
The sudden appearance of four more weapons in the open doorway startled
the enemy into pausing for a moment. I sprang forward and gave the
nearest of Porter's assailants a blow that sent him staggering into the
midst of his band, and with a wrench Porter tore himself loose from the
other two and was with us again.
"What does this mean?" I cried angrily to the invaders. "What are you
here for?"
There were perhaps a dozen of them altogether, and in the midst of the
band I saw the evil face and snake-eyes of Tom Terrill. At the sight of
his repulsive features I could scarce refrain from sending a bullet in
his direction.
Pages:
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248