“You infernal murderer!” cried the major. It was all he said, for, as he
swung his chair up, the one-time bully of Hell’s-Half-Acre rushed in and
struck him a single sledge-hammer blow with the clubbed pistol. It fell
full on the major’s temple, and the heavy iron crashed through.
Greef King stood an instant breathing hard, then, without withdrawing
his eyes from the prostrate form, his hand groped for the cold goblet
and lifting it to his lips he drained it to its dregs. “There!” he said.
“There’s my six-years’ debt paid in full, ye lily-livered,
fancy-weskited hellion! Take that from the mayor of the Dome!”
There was a man’s step on the gravel and the sudden bark of a dog. The
pistol fell from his hand. He stole on tiptoe along the corridor and
leaped through the French window. As he dashed across the lawn, a
startled cry came from the house behind him.
No human eye had seen him, but he had been observed for all that: Run
your best now, Greef King! Double and turn how you will, there is a
[Pg 384]swifter Nemesis pursuing. It is only a dog, and not a big one at that,
but it is of a faithful breed that knows neither fear nor quarter. Like
white lightning, without a bark or growl, Chum launched himself on the
fleeing quarry, and in the shadow of the trees his teeth met in the
ragged trousers-leg.
Kicking, beating with his hands at the dragging weight, the man dashed
on. Not till they had reached the hemlocks was that fierce grip broken,
and then it was with a tearing of flesh and sinew. Panting, snarling
with rage and pain, the man seized a fallen branch and stood at bay,
striking out with vicious sweeping blows. But the bulldog, the hair
bristling up on his thick neck, his red-rimmed eyes fiery, circled
beyond reach of the flail, crouching for another spring.
Again he launched himself, and the man, dodging, blundered full-face
into a thorn-bush. The sharp spines slashed his forehead and the
starting blood blinded him, so that he ran without sense of
direction—straight upon the declivity of Lovers’ Leap.
He was toppling on its edge before he could stop, and then threw himself
backward, clutching desperately at the slippery fern-covered rock,
feeling his feet dangling over nothing. He dug his fingers into the
yielding soil and with knee and elbow strove frenziedly to crawl to the
path.
[Pg 385]
But the white bulldog was upon him. The clamping teeth met in the
striving fingers, and with a scream of pain Greef King’s hold let go and
dog and man went down together.
[Pg 386]
CHAPTER XLIV
THE MAJOR BREAKS SILENCE
Ten minutes later a motor was hurling itself along the Red Road to the
village. The doctor was in his office and no time was lost in the
return. En route they passed Judge Chalmers driving, and seeing the
flying haste, he turned his sweating pair and lashed them after the car.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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