Chapter 31
THE SCOTLAND YARD man recognized the staccato bark of a machine-gun. It sent its harsh stutter rippling through the velvety dark— two bursts, three bursts. Then silence, as startling as the noise itself, and swelling out of it the rising hum of a power-boat that swiftly sank to a diminuendo.
The first move came from Reardon. For a brief instant Dene’s attention was diverted and, profiting by that moment of distraction, the prisoner sprang for the balcony. The detective remained rooted to the spot, but like a flash, hand and gun went up and came down, swiftly and steadily as they had taught him at the range, taking aim at the fleeing legs. No shot rang out, however, for the girl threw herself between.
‘For the love of God, don’t shoot!’ she implored him. ‘You’ll rouse the whol
