“I’ve done it!” he muttered, hoarsely. “One blow! Thank Heaven, he didn’t want another! His skull was as soft as pudding! Ugh!”

He turned away. The man who lay stretched upon the floor was an ugly sight. His two companions, cowering over the table, were not much better. Dyson’s trembling fingers went out for the brandy decanter. Half of what he poured out was spilled upon the tablecloth. The rest he drank from a tumbler, neat.

Peter Ruff and the Double Four — Part 17

“It’s nervous work, this, you fellows,” he said, hoarsely.

Peter Ruff and the Double Four — Part 17

“It’s hellish!” Dickinson answered. “Let’s have some air in the room. By God, it’s close!”

Peter Ruff and the Double Four — Part 17

He sank back into his chair, white to the lips. Dyson looked at him sharply.

“Look here,” he exclaimed, “I hold you both to our bargain! I was to be the one he attacked and who struck the blow--in self-defence! Remember that--it was in self-defence! I’ve done it! I’ve done my share! I hope to God I’ll forget it some day. Andrew, you know your task. Be a man, and get to work!”

Dickinson rose to his feet unsteadily. “Yes!” he said. “What was it? I have forgotten, for the moment, but I am ready.”

“You must get his betting book from his pocket,” Sir Richard directed. “Then you must help Merries downstairs with him, and into the car. Merries is--to get rid of him.”

Merries shivered. His hand, too, went out for the brandy.

“To get rid of him,” he muttered. “It sounds easy!”

“It is easy,” Sir Richard declared. “You have only to keep your nerve, and the thing is done. No one will see him inside the car, in that motoring coat and glasses. You can drive somewhere out into the country and leave him.”

“Leave him!” Merries repeated, trembling. “Leave him--yes!”

“I must do more than my share, I suppose,” Sir Richard declared contemptuously. “Come!”

They dragged the man’s body on to a chair, wrapped a huge coat around him, tied a motoring cap under his chin, fixed goggles over his eyes. Sir Richard strolled into the hall and opened the front door. He stood there for a moment, looking up and down the street. When he gave the signal they dragged him out, supported between them, across the pavement, into the car. Ugh! His attitude was so natural as to be absolutely ghastly. Merries started the car and sprang into the driver’s seat. There were people in the Square now, but the figure reclining in the dark, cushioned interior looked perfectly natural.