Page:Restless Earth.djvu/221

Patricia sighed, closed her eyes, and sank limply to the floor.

Harley stared at the weapon stupidly, pulling the trigger many times. Then he swore, and worked the safety catch furiously. Finding that ineffectual, he snapped out the cartridge-clip.

The weapon was not loaded. It had not been loaded since 1917!

With a violent movement Harley threw the weapon and the clip through the window-pane. The crash of breaking glass sounded startlingly loud in the stillness of the night.

He stooped over the crouching woman upon the floor, his long, thin hands reaching for her throat.

“Don’t, Jimmy!” she cried feebly. “You don’t know what you’re doing! Jimmy!”

“Talk, you snake! Talk!”

He held her close, glaring into her wide, frightened eyes. He shook her fiercely; then threw her violently across the room. She struck a corner of the table and slid to the floor in a heap.

Harley crossed to her with slow, menacing strides. The blood lust was on him. He was a wild beast, stalking to kill.

“Get up!” he snarled. “Get up and talk!”

Patricia moved her head from side to side helplessly. She was in pain, and unable to raise her head.

Harley looked at the back of her neck, so white, so inviting. One good blow upon her spine with something heavy———

He looked around the room quickly. The pseudo-antique poker which hung from an ornamental stand upon the hearth appeared to be made for the work. He stole across the room and secured it. He weighed it in his hand, and turned.

“Jimmy! Is that you?”

Harley stiffened, the poker half-upraised, poised upon his toes. Someone had spoken. Or did his brain play him tricks again?