Doddridge Knapp looked grim, but serene, as he sat on the desk with his
foot on the prostrate Storey. I breathed softly, and listened to the
rising complaints from without.
There were thumps and kicks on the door, and at last a voice roared:
"What are you waiting for? Break it in."
A crash followed, and the ground-glass upper section of the door fell
in fragments.
"I beg your pardon, gentlemen," I said, as a man put his hand through
the opening. "This revolver is loaded, and the first man to come
through there will get a little cold lead in him."
There was a pause and then a storm of oaths.
"Get in there!" cried Decker's voice from the rear. "What are you
afraid of?"
"He's got a gun."
"Well, get in, three or four of you at once. He can't shoot you all."
This spirited advice did not seem to find favor with the front-rank
men, and the enemy retired for consultation. At last a messenger came
forward.
"What do you want?" he asked.
"I want you to keep out."
"Who is he?" asked Decker's voice.
"There's another one there," cried another voice. "Why, it's Doddridge
Knapp!"
Decker made use of some language not intended for publication, and
there was whispering for a few minutes, followed by silence.
I looked at Doddridge Knapp, sitting grim and unmoved, counting the
minutes till the injunction should come. Suddenly a man bounded through
the broken upper section of the door, tossed by his companions, and I
found myself in a grapple before I could raise my revolver.
Pages:
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275