Then, where that break in the shadowy line of light had been, now the
line was unbroken.
A fierce glee permeated him. The curse, the moan had been music to
him. But it only required a second before he had the enemy's retort.
It came with a fusillade. And every shot seemed to find practically
the same spot on the wall. He knew that the flash of his gun had been
the target. He knew he had only escaped by a fraction of time.
His shoulder stung him. But his will, his savage yearning for the
continuance of the fight, left him disregarding. There was more to
come, and he knew it. Nor did he care how much. The blood was hot in
his brain. No pain, nothing mattered. Again he searched along that
lateral line of light.
He was reaching out far beyond his retreat. He had stealthily crawled
to the left of the table. Again his weapon was raised against another
break in that telltale line of light, this time at a point where the
angle of the building must be. A moment passed while he judged his
aim. It was by no means easy.
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