The Triumph of John Kars Part 35

The orchestra had started a waltz, and the new dance seemed to claim all the dancers. Alec and Maude were one of the first couples to appear. But the onlookers were watching the stranger. He had roused up, and was talking to his woman. A few moments later they emerged from their table to join the dancers.

"Going to dance," Bill commented. "He sure looks soused."

The man was swaying about as he moved. Kars' searching gaze missed nothing. The couple began to dance. And for all the man's unsteadiness it was clear he was a good, if reckless, dancer. The sober gait of the other dancers, however, seemed unsuited to his taste, and he began to sweep through the crowd with long racing strides which his woman could scarcely keep pace with.

Kars stood up.

"He'll get thrown out," said Bill. "Pap won't stand for that play.

He'll tear up the floor with his nailed boots."

The man had swept round the hall, and he and his partner were lost under the balcony beneath the box in which the "onlookers" were sitting.

In a moment a cry came up from beneath them in a woman's voice.

Another second and a chorus of men's angry voices almost drowned the music. The men in the orchestra were craning, and broad smiles lit some of their faces. Other dancers had come to a halt. They, too, were gazing with varying expressions of inquiry and curiosity, but none with any display of alarm.

"He's boosted into some one," said Bill.

A babel of voices came up from below. They were deep with fierce protest. The trouble was gaining in seriousness. Kars leaned out of the box. He could see nothing of what was going on. He abruptly drew back, and turned to his companion.

"Say----"

But his words remained unuttered. He was interrupted by a violent shout from below.

"You son-of-a----!"

Bill's hand clutched at Kars' muscular arm.

"That's the kid! Quick! Come on!"

They started for the door of the box. But, even as the doctor gripped and turned the handle, the sequel to such an epithet in a place like Leaping Horse came. Two shots rang out. Then two more followed on the instant.

In a moment every light in the place was put out and pandemonium reigned.

CHAPTER XXI

DR. BILL INVESTIGATES

All that had been feared by the two men in the box had come to pa.s.s.

It had come with a swiftness, a sureness incomparable. It had come with a mercilessness which those who knew him regarded as only to be expected in a man of Pap Shaunbaum's record.

Accustomed to an atmosphere very little removed from the lawless, the panic and pandemonium that reigned in the dark was hardly to have been expected on the part of the frequenters of the Elysian Fields. But it was the sudden blacking out of the scene which had wrought on the nerves. It was the doubt, the fear of where the next shots might come, which sent men and women, shrieking and shouting, stampeding for the doors which led to the hotel.

Never had the dance hall at the Elysian Fields so quickly cleared of its revelers. The crush was terrible. Women fell and were trampled under foot. It was only their men who managed to save them from serious disaster. Fortunately the light in the hotel beyond the doors became a beacon, and, in minutes only, the human tide, bedraggled and bruised, poured out from the darkness of disaster to the glad light which helped to restore confidence and a burning curiosity.

But curiosity had to remain unsatisfied for that night at least. The doors were slammed in the faces of those who sought to return, and the locks were turned, and the bolts were shot upon them. The excited crowd was left to melt away as it chose, or stimulate its shaking nerves at the various bars open to it.

Meanwhile John Kars and Bill Brudenell fumbled their way to the floor below. The uncertainty, the possible danger, concerned them in nowise.

Alec was in the shooting. They might yet be in time to save him. This thought sent them plunging through the darkness regardless of everything but their objective.

As they reached the floor they heard the sharp tones of Pap echoing through the darkened hall.

"Fasten every darn door," he cried. "Don't let any of those guys get back in. Guess the p'lice'll be along right away. Turn up the lights."

The promptness with which his orders were obeyed displayed something of the man. It displayed something more to the two hurrying men. It suggested to both their minds that the whole thing had been prepared for. Perhaps even the employees of this man were concerned in their chief's plot.

As the full light blazed out again it revealed the bartenders still behind the bar. It showed two men at the main doors, and another at each of the other entrances. Furthermore, it revealed the drop curtain lowered on the stage, and the orchestra men peering questioningly, and not without fearful glances, over the rail which barred them from the polished dance floor.

Besides these things Pap Shaunbaum was hurrying across the hall. His mask-like face displayed no sign of emotion. Not even concern. He was approaching two huddled figures lying amidst a lurid splash of their own blood. They were barely a yard from each other, and their position was directly beneath the floor of the box which the "onlookers" had occupied.

The three men converged at the same moment. It was the sight of John Kars and Dr. Bill that brought the first sign of emotion to Pap's face.

"Say, this is h.e.l.l!" he cried. Then, as the doctor knelt beside the body of Alec Mowbray, the back of whose head, with its tangled ma.s.s of blood-soaked hair, was a great gaping cavity: "He's out. That pore darn kid's out--sure. Say, I wouldn't have had it happen for ten thousand dollars."

"No."

It was Kars who replied. Dr. Bill was examining the body of the man whose clothing was stained with the auriferous soil of his claim.

Two guns were lying on the floor beside the bodies. Pap moved as though to pick one up. Kars' hand fell on his outstretched arm.

"Don't touch those," he said. "Guess they're for the police."

Pap straightened up on the instant. His dark eyes shot a swift glance into the face of the man he had for years desired to come into closer contact with. It was hardly a friendly look. It was questioning, too.

"They'll be around right away. I 'phoned 'em."

Kars nodded.

"Good."

Bill looked up.

"Out. Right out. Both of them. Guess we best wait for the police."

"Can't they be removed?" Pap's eyes were on the doctor.

Kars took it upon himself to reply.

"Not till the p'lice get around."

But Pap would not accept the dictation.

"That so, Doc?" he inquired, ignoring Kars.

"That's so," said Bill, with an almost stern brevity. Then, in a moment, the Jew's face flushed under his dark skin.