CHAPTER 44An ancient drunkard in the second story of one of the stores across the street had roused himself at the sound of the shots and now he dragged himself to the window and began to scream: “Murder! Murder!” over and over, and even The Corner shuddered at the sound of his voice.
Lord Nick, his revolver still in his hand, stalked through the film of people who now swirled about him, eager to see the dead. There was no call for the law to make its appearance, and the representatives of the law were wisely dilatory in The Corner.
He stood over the two motionless figures with a stony face.
“You saw it, boys,” he said. “You know what I’ve borne from this fellow. The big man pulled his gun first on me. I shot in self-defense. As for—the other—it was a square fight.”
“Square fight,” som
