"You'll look fine in
stripes, you will. And nothing under the sun can save you if I push
this button. Ten years, that's what it will be. The Cronk brothers!
The _sick_ brothers! Why, a jury would give you the full limit.
It will please your brother, after all these years, to see you doing
time--Here! Drop that, curse you!"
There was a deafening report, a blinding flash and a cloud of smoke.
Then a gurgling groan, the scraping of a heavy body against the wall,
and Colonel Grand slid to the floor, his arms and legs writhing in the
last tremendous spasm of death.
Neither of the Cronks moved for a full half-minute. They gazed as if
stupefied at the bloody face of the great gambler; they saw his legs
stiffen and his chest swell widely and then collapse.
"Give me the key!" It was a whispered shriek that leaped from the lips
of the hunchback. "Good God, he's dead! They'll hang us!"
He sprang to Dick's side and snatched the door key from his stiff
fingers. As he leaped toward the door, through the powder-smoke, he
stumbled over the body of the dead man. He crashed to the floor but
was up again in a flash, gasping, groaning with terror.
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