utters which were being
battered into fragments.

"It's my chance, now!" whispered Ilse Dumont, slipping past him like a
shadow.

For a moment he saw her silhouetted against the yellow electric glare
on the stairs below, then, half carrying the almost helpless Russian
girl, he stumbled down the last flight of stairs and pushed his way
through a hurrying group of men who seemed to be searching for
something, for they were tearing open cupboards and buffets, dragging
out table drawers and tumbling linen, crockery, and glassware all over
the black and white marble floor.

The whole place was ankle deep in shattered glass and broken bottles,
and the place reeked with smoke and the odour of wine and spirits.

Neeland forced his way forward into the cafe, looked around for
Sengoun, and saw him almost immediately.

The young Russian, flushed, infuriated, his collar gone and his coat
in tatters, was struggling with some men who held both his arms but
did not offer to strike him.

Behind him, crowded back into a corner near the cashier's
steel-grilled desk, stood Ilse Dumont, calm, disdainful, confronted by
Brandes, whose swollen, greenish eyes, injected with blood, glared
redly at her. Stull had hold of him and was trying to drag him away:

"For God's sake, Eddie, shut your mouth," he pleaded in English. "You
can't do _that_ to her, whatever she done to you!"

But Brandes, disengaging himself with a jerk, pushed his way past
Sengoun to where Ilse stood.

"I've got the goods on _you_!" he said in a ferocious voice that
neither Stull nor Curfoot recognised. "You know what you did to me,
don't you! You took my wife from me! Yes, my _wife_! She _was_ my
wife! She _is_ my wife!--For all you did, you lying, treacherous
slut!--For all you've done to break me, double-cross me, ruin me,
drive me out of every place I went! And now I've got you! I've sold
you out! Get that? And you know what they'll do to you, don't you?
Well, you'll see when----"

Curfoot and Stull threw themselves against him, but Brandes, his round
face pasty with fury, struggled back again to confront Ilse Dumont.

"Ruined me!" he repeated. "Took away from me the only thing God ever
gave me for my own! Took my wife!"

"You dog!" said Ilse Dumont very slowly. "You dirty dog!"

A frightful spasm crossed Brandes' features, and Stull snatched at the
pistol he had whipped out. There was a struggle; Brandes wrenched the
weapon free; but Neeland tore his way