The FightA light-skinned man wearing a black vest and jacket and a black Derby hat came down the stair. He pulled a gun from his pocket in a relaxed manner, pointing it at us. “Now, now, folks, don’t do anything foolish.” He moved down the stairs and into the room, putting a row of boxes between us. “Come on along, now, let’s go.”
I collapsed to the floor with a sigh. Morton looked down and I winked at him.
“Don’t shoot.” Morton held up his hand. “Let me help her.”
“Go ahead,” the man said.
Morton knelt, laying David on the floor. Then Morton drew his gun and shot towards the man. I covered my ears just in time. David screamed, hiding his head in his arms.
A shot rang out from the other side of the boxes an instant later, then a thud. The room fell silent.
“That was hardly honorable.
