The Day of Days Part 50
Simultaneously P. Sybarite's chauffeur set the brakes, and with the agility of a hounded rabbit seeking its burrow, dived from his seat to the side of the car farthest from the gangsters.
In an instant he was underneath it.
P. Sybarite, on the other hand, had leaped before the accident.
Staggering a pace or two--and all the time under fire--he at length found his feet not six feet from the limousine. It had stopped broadside on. In this position he commanded the front seats without great danger of sending a shot through the body.
His weapon rose mechanically and quite deliberately he took aim--making a.s.surance doubly sure throughout what seemed an age made sibilant by the singing past his head of the infuriated gangster's bullets.
But his finger never tightened upon the trigger.
November had ceased firing and was plucking nervously at the slide of his automatic. His driver had jumped down from his seat and was scuttling madly up the street.
In a breath P. Sybarite realised what was the matter: as automatics will, when hot with fast firing, November's had choked on an empty sh.e.l.l.
With a sob of excitement the little man lowered his weapon and flung himself upon the gang leader.
November rose to meet him, reversing his pistol and aiming at P.
Sybarite's head a murderous blow. This, however, the little man was alert to dodge. November came bodily into his arms. Grappling, the two reeled and went down, P. Sybarite's fingers closing on the throat of the a.s.sa.s.sin just as the latter's head struck the pavement with brutal force.
The man shivered, grunted, and lay still.
P. Sybarite disengaged and got up on his feet.
XXII
TOGETHER
In a daze, P. Sybarite shook and felt himself all over, unable to credit his escape from that rain of bullets.
But he was apparently unharmed.
_Kismet!_...
Then suddenly he quickened to the circ.u.mstances: the thing was finished, November stunned and helpless at his feet, November's driver making off, the crowd swarming round, the police an imminent menace.
Now if Marian were in the body of the town-car, as he believed, he must get her out of it and away before the police and detectives could overtake and apprehend them both.
Instant action, inspired audacity, a little luck--and the thing might possibly be accomplished.
His chauffeur was crawling ignominiously out from beneath the touring car--his countenance livid with grime and the pallor of fright.
Meeting the eye of his employer, he grinned a sheepish grin.
P. Sybarite seized him by the arm.
"Are you hurt?"
"Not ten cents' worth--much less a thousand dollars! No such luck!"
His mouth to the fellow's ear, P. Sybarite whispered hoa.r.s.ely and hurriedly:
"Unhook your license number--throw it in the car--get ready to move on the word--lady in that car--kidnapped--I love her--d'you understand?--we must get her away--another thousand in this for you--"
"Gotcha," the man cut in smartly. "And I'm with you to the last act!
Go to it, bo'--I like your style!"
Swinging about, P. Sybarite jumped upon the running-board of the maroon-coloured car, wrenched the door open, and stumbled in.
In her evening frock and her cloak of furs, Marian lay huddled in a corner, wrists and ankles alike made fast with heavy twine, her mouth closed tight by a bandanna handkerchief pa.s.sed round her jaws and knotted at the nape of her neck. Above its folds her face was like snow, but the little man thought to detect in her staring eyes a hint of intelligence, and on this he counted with all his soul.
"Don't scream!" he pleaded as, whipping out a pocket knife, he severed her bonds. "Don't do anything but depend on me. Pretend, if you like, you don't know what's happening--likely you don't at that! No matter.
Have faith in me; I'll get you clear of this yet!"
He fancied a softening look in those wide and frightened eyes of a child.
An instant's work loosed her scored and excoriated wrists; in another, the bonds fell from her ankles. Deftly unknotting the bandage that closed her mouth, he asked could she walk. With difficulty, in a husky and painful whisper, but still courageously, she told him yes.
Hopeful, rather than counting on this a.s.surance, he jumped out and offered his hand. She put hers into it (and it was cold as ice), stirred, rose stiffly, tottered to the door, and fell into his arms....
A uniformed patrolman, breaking through the crowd about them, seized P. Sybarite and held him fast.
"What's this? Who's this?" he gabbled incoherently, brandishing a vaguely formidable fist.
"A lady, you fool!" P. Sybarite snapped. "Let go and catch that scoundrel over there--if you're worth your salt."
He waved his free hand broadly in the direction taken by November's driver.
Abruptly and without protest the patrolman released him, b.u.t.ted his way through the crowd, and disappeared.
An arm boldly about Marian's waist, P. Sybarite helped her to the step of the touring car--and blessed that prince among chauffeurs, who was up and ready in his seat!
But now again he must be hindered: a plain-clothes man dropped a heavy hand upon his shoulder and screwed the muzzle of a revolver into P.
Sybarite's ear.
"Under arrest!" he blatted wildly. "Carrying fire-arms! Causing a crowd to collect--!"
"All right--all right!" P. Sybarite told him roughly. "I admit it. I'm not resisting, am I? Take that gun out of my ear and help me get this lady into the car before she's trampled and torn to pieces by these staring fools!"
Stupidly enough, the man comprehended some part of his admonishment.
Staring blankly from the little man to the girl, he pocketed his weapon and, grasping Marian's arm, a.s.sisted her into the touring car.
"Thanks!" cried P. Sybarite, jumping up on the running-board. "You're most amiable, my friend!"
And with the heel of his open hand he struck the man forcibly upon the chest, so that he reeled back, tripped over the hapchance foot of an innocent by-stander, and went sprawling and blaspheming upon his back.