mg.greeneyes-第12章
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eved； and his assumption was a logical one。
None of the men from Ling Soo's had appeared。 These Chinese did not identify the strange American with their organization。 That was all。
Cleve thought of the emblem beneath his coat。 He had put it there； because it was to be worn concealed in this place…so his informant had said。
Right now； Cleve decided； that emblem would settle matters much more effectively than his government badge！
Quietly and impressively； Cleve drew back his coat and showed the sign of the Wu…Fan。 He stepped back as he did so； in order that all might see。
THE result was entirely opposite from what Cleve had anticipated。 Before he could move another step away； a knife gleamed as the nearest Chinaman leaped toward him。 A wild； angry shout arose； and with it came the cry； 〃Wu…Fan！〃
In another instant； the mad assailant was flinging himself upon the amazed American。 Cleve leaped instinctively to one side。
The charging man was none too accurate。 His blade sliced Cleve's sleeve。
But this momentary escape was no salvation。 As Cleve look up； he saw two new attackers spring from his right。
The door was behind him； but there was no escape now。 With the bright blades descending； Cleve saw death； and dropped to the floor。
That action made him helpless。 His hand had no time to gain the gun from the hidden pocket。 Yet Cleve's futile effort to elude the knife thrusts actually contributed to the unexpected happening that thwarted the murderous attackers。
Two sharp shots cracked from the blackened doorway。 The well…aimed missives found their marks。 The first smashed the wrist of the one attacker； the other reached the shoulder of a knife…swinging Chinaman。
Both were upon Cleve now。 One knife was poised above his head； but the hand that held it was guided by a deadened arm。 The thrust was futile； and as Cleve struck the threatening hand； the blade flew free along the floor。
As he rolled free from his crippled antagonists； Cleve encountered a greater menace。 The Chinaman who had made the first thrust was back again； determined not to miss； a second time。
A huge； surly fighter； he pounced upon his prey with upraised arm； and the broad…bladed dirk seemed certain of its victim。 For Cleve was half lying on the floor。
Again an automatic spoke from the door。 The Chinese assassin dropped his blade。 It clattered beside Cleve。
Once again； the hidden marksman had prevailed。 The Chinaman was shot in the hand。 He dropped to the floor； pressing his wounded fingers against his body。
The man's actions indicated that he was no longer in the fray。 He was writhing； as though in pain。 But in that action lay his treachery。
Seeking to deceive his hidden foe； the big Chinaman huddled on the floor； and his left hand； out of sight from the doorway； obtained the knife that the right had dropped。
Cleve was crawling to his feet； his back turned toward the huge Chinaman。
Up came that hidden left hand。 Swinging into play； it drove the wicked blade straight for the center of Cleve's back。
The action was deft and swift。 Those firmly clenched fingers formed a fist that even a bullet might not loosen on the instant。
Quick though the assassin was； the hidden sharpshooter was swifter。 His fourth shot sounded。 The bullet； skimming a few inches away from Cleve's back； reached its chosen mark…not the hand that held the knife； but the blade itself！
There was a sharp clack as the leaden missive clipped the blade。 The knife was wrested from the hand that held it； as though plucked away by an invisible being。
Cleve Branch； staggering to his feet and drawing his revolver； found himself facing a trio of startled； bewildered Chinamen； whose death thrusts had been thwarted。
Who was this mysterious rescuer？ Cleve did not know。 He realized only that he had been saved from certain death； that he had found enemies where he had expected friends。
The attack had been frustrated by an unseen hand； and one lone rade was ready to assist against a new onslaught。
THE menace of the first encounter had been its suddenness。 Cleve had warning of the danger that was ing now…and he saw that he had much to fear。
He was in the midst of an Oriental nightmare。 This room was dimly lighted by swaying Chinese lanterns。 The three Chinamen； writhing on the floor； seemed grotesque in their odd garbs。 Cleve had no dread of them now。
His eyes were staring about the dim room； peering at challenging yellow faces。
A singsong cry was passing back and forth。 The name 〃Wu…Fan〃 was uttered in a weird； hostile tone。 The pause seemed minutes long…yet it could not have been more than several seconds。
Strange eyes were peering from openings in the opposite wall。 A chattered gabble was telling what had happened。 Amidst the lull； Cleve raised his revolver as a threat； and began to back toward the door where he knew that safety lay。
The effect of his action was startling。 It was the spark that kindled the fire of rage among the foeman。 One purpose dominated the entire throng of Chinese： that their victim should not depart alive。
If Cleve had supposed that his enemies were armed only with long； wicked knives； he now learned his mistake。 As though by given signal； a dozen revolvers flashed into view。
Cleve did not wait for the firing to start。 He blazed away with his revolver； straight at the nearest group of opponents。 One Chinaman fell。 The others dropped behind the shelter of the tables。
Like rats； these Mongols had slipped out of sight； and opened fire from their ambuscades。
As he sought the protection of a table； Cleve fired at spots where his enemies had been。 He aimed well； but his plan could never have succeeded。
He was one against many； and the odds were impossible。 His one lone revolver might account for a few of the attackers； but doom was inevitable。
Cleve could never make that short dash to the door and expect to arrive alive。
Bursts of flame were ing from all quarters now。 The room was ablaze with revolver shots。 Cleve Branch was the target； and bullets smashed against the table which he had chosen for a buffer。 Cleve's answering shots were pitifully small and few。
But he still had help。 The man at the door was fighting with him。 There； from an angle； the hidden marksman could see all portions of the room。 He had a dozen targets； and he chose them well。
Yellow hands spread and dropped their weapons。 Fingers that were pressed to triggers suddenly lost their purpose。 The sharp； staccato barks of the automatic were tokens of unerring aim。
A strange silence dominated the room as the echoes of gunfire died away。
Cleve； bewildered； gradually realized the explanation。
His revolver was empty and useless in his hand。 He had brought no reserve supply of cartridges。 He knew that his weapon had done little damage。 Those shots from the door had turned the tide！
Prone； helpless Chinese were sprawled about the room。 Those who still remained active were too wary。 They were crouching； fearfully； in corners； or they were back behind the refuge of the doorways。
They knew too well that their own shots would betray their presence。 They had seen the havoc wrought。 Not one dared risk encounter with that superman whose aim was everywhere！
TO Cleve； the silence became a sign that all his enemies were fallen or had fled。 In that he was wrong。 His knowledge of the Chinese nature was at fault。
These men were snipers at heart。 They had attacked openly because they were many against one。 Now； realizing their error； those who remained uninjured were lying low； awaiting a false move by the man whose life they sought。
The blackened door was refuge； in Cleve's mind。 The bursts of flame that had emerged from it were signs of sure protection。 With gunfire ended； he felt that escape was the only course。 Escape； before fresh attackers might arrive。
Springing from behind the table； Cleve leaped straight toward the door。
His dash carried him no farther than five feet。 The shots came from hidden Chinamen。 A bullet winged Cleve in the shoulder； and he sprawled headlong
