White-Eye fired as The Spider, throwing
shot after shot, walked slowly toward him. Suddenly White-Eye coughed
and staggered against the table. With his last shot The Spider dropped
White-Eye, then jerked a second gun from his waistband. Gary, kneeling
behind the faro table, fired over its top. The Spider whirled
half-round, recovered himself, and, sidling toward the table, threw
down on the kneeling man, who sank forward coughing horribly. Within
eight feet of him The Spider's gun roared again. Gary's body jerked
stiff at the shock and then slowly collapsed. The fourth man,
Longtree, with his hands above his head, begged The Spider not to kill
his old pal! The Spider's face, horribly distorted, venomous as a
snake's, colorless and glistening with sweat, twisted queerly as he
spoke: "Kill you, you damned coyote?" And he shot Longtree down as a
man would shoot a trapped wolf.
Framed in the office doorway stood Pony Baxter, a blue automatic in his
hand. The Spider, leaning against the roulette table, laughed. "Gave
me the double-cross, eh, Pony? How do you like the layout?" He swayed
and clutched at the table.
Pages:
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469