The old
Hebrew, white as chalk, stood shaking before him, the bright pistol
barrel opposite his eyes, when a volume of cold air rushed into the
room, and with it a sound of hurried steps. Shorthouse felt his arm
knocked up before he had time to turn, and the same second Garvey, who
had somehow managed to burst open the window came between him and the
trembling Marx. His lips were parted and his eyes rolled strangely in
his distorted face.
"Don't shoot him! Shoot in the air!" he shrieked. He seized the Jew by
the shoulders.
"You damned hound," he roared, hissing in his face. "So I've got you at
last. That's where your vacuum is, is it? I know your vile hiding-place
at last." He shook him like a dog. "I've been after him all night," he
cried, turning to Shorthouse, "all night, I tell you, and I've got him
at last."
Garvey lifted his upper lip as he spoke and showed his teeth. They shone
like the fangs of a wolf. The Jew evidently saw them too, for he gave a
horrid yell and struggled furiously.
Before the eyes of the secretary a mist seemed to rise. The hideous
shadow again leaped into Garvey's face.
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