He
stole stealthily about, shooting the curtains, shooting the bed,
shooting the picture of the late Mr. Timothy Muldoon, shooting the
floor. He bent down and shot under the bed, and under the washstand,
until a film of yellow dust lay over the whole room, and then he turned
to the closet and opened that. There hung Professor Jocolino's other
clothes, and Flannery jerked them from the hooks and carried them at
arm's length to the bed, and shot them.
As he was shooting into the pocket of a pair of striped trousers the
door opened and Professor Jocolino stood on the threshold. There was no
doubt in the professor's mind. He was being robbed! He drew a pistol
from his pocket and fired. The bullet whizzed over the bending
Flannery's head, and before the professor could fire a second time
Flannery rose and turned and, with a true aim, shot the professor!
Shot him full in the face with the insect powder, and before the blinded
man could recover his breath or spit out the bitter dose, or wipe his
eyes, Flannery had him by the collar and had jerked him to the head of
the stairs. It is true; he kicked him downstairs.
Pages:
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75