They must not
reach him. His decision was promptly taken.
He raised one of Sikkem's guns. It was heavy, and a sense of pleasure
filled him as he felt the enormous bore of the muzzle with one finger.
Stealthily he raised himself to his full height behind his barrier. He
leveled his gun at a spot just below the right hand window, where the
wall rose up out of the floor. There was no obstacle intervening.
A moment later the crack of the gun burst through the silence. Then,
on the instant, he flung himself prone across the table. His answer
came like lightning. Four shots. And three of them harmlessly tore
their way into the bowels of the woodwork. The fourth had come from
the direction in which he had aimed.
A fierce spasm of pain through his chest blinded him mentally and
physically for the moment. But, by an almost superhuman effort, he
recovered himself. He knew he was hit, and hit badly. Something
seemed to have broken inside him, just under his left armpit.
He forced himself to an upright position and flung out his gun arm.
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