Dead Stay Dumb by James Hadley Chase Page B

outer room, one hand over his eyes, the other holding the gun waist-high. Gurney ducked back, hastily squeezing himself behind the door. Dillon fired once. The bullet sent a spurt of splinters from the wall. He came into the room and stood listening.
     Gurney held his breath. He was scared all right. Dillon groped his way across to the bed. Gurney let him go past, then he leapt forward, driving his knees into Dillon's back. The two went down with a crash. Gurney screamed for Myra to come.
     The gun shot out of Dillon's hand and slid under the bed. Gurney could feel the heat from Dillon's body. They were both sweating with fear.
     Arching his back, Dillon shot Gurney over his head, and then grabbed him round the body. He hit Gurney twice with his fists, as if he were driving a nail into wood. They both caught Gurney on the chest, driving the wind out of his body. Gurney lashed out with his feet, but in his terror he kicked wild. Dillon came at him again, his lips off his teeth, and a horrible sobbing noise coming deep down from his chest. Gurney took another punch that made him jerk convulsively, and then he slammed his right into Dillon's face.
     Myra came running in. She stood in the doorway, the knife held before her, waiting for a chance to get at Dillon. The two men rolled over, away from her, into a dark corner. She sprang forward and caught up the candle, holding it above her head.
     “Kill him, Nick!” she shrilled. “Get after him... don't let him get away!”
     Gurney made a desperate effort to break away from Dillon, but Dillon was too strong for him. They crashed against the wall. One of Dillon's hands groped for Gurney's face, hooked fingers questing for his eyes. Gurney yelled and jerked his head back. Pinning Gurney with his knees, Dillon heaved up. Myra saw the broad shoulders suddenly coming up out of the shadow. She ran forward, holding the candle in her left hand, and drove the knife down hard.
     The light warned Dillon. He let go of Gurney and threw himself backwards, crashing into Myra. The candle fell to the floor and went out. Myra went over heavily. The breath in her body rushed out of her throat as she hit the boards. She felt a hand close round her ankle. Screaming wildly, she kicked out furiously with her free foot. Twice she kicked Dillon's head, but he kept on. He dragged her close and his hands gripped her thighs, his fingers like steel hooks, driving into the flesh and muscle. The agony of his grip made Myra scream again. She twisted forward, her fists beating him like flails. Still he kept that grip, digging his nails deeper and deeper into her.
     “Nick... for God's sake...!” Myra screamed.
     Gurney heaved out of the darkness and smashed down on both of them. Myra got a hard knock from his arms as he came down. The paralysing grip on her legs loosened as, swearing in great gasping breaths, Dillon grabbed at Gurney again. Myra rolled clear. The cold blade of the knife touched her hand and she seized it by the handle.
     Gurney yelled, “I got him... quick... Myra quick!”
     She ran into the darkness towards the sound of the struggle. Her shins struck their bodies and she fell on top of them.
     Gurney panted out of the darkness, “Get him... for Christ's sake... I can't... hold him.”
     Myra kept her head. She lay flat on the two struggling bodies. Her hand groped in the dark and touched a face. The two men heaved up, nearly throwing her clear.
     A muffled voice mumbled, “He's underneath... get him.” And blindly she thrust down with the knife. She heard a sigh and the struggling suddenly ceased.
     “Don't leave him... Nick...” Myra gasped to Gurney. “Hold him.” Her hand still held the horn shaft of the knife; she pulled it out, and then, moving the point a little way up, she shoved down hard again on the handle.
     She stabbed four times before she was