"Let me go. Listen, Freddy! We'll talk it over to-morrow—all three. I promised John I wouldn't see you to-night."
"Tomorrow!" he laughed. "Too late. You don't know all I've done for this—a real sportin' proposition. I tell you it's now or never, and I'm mad about you."
He got his arm around her.
"You've got to let me keep my promise."
Still laughing, he drew her closer. His flaming eyes were near. His breath was revolting on her cheeks.
She struggled, gasping for words.
"Let me go. You've been drinking. He said—"
"He said!" he cried furiously.
"What are you going to do?" she begged.
As he flung her back against the table the side pocket of his unbuttoned coat flapped against her hand.
"I'm not going to let you slip now, Bella."
"Freddy! You're killing me!"
She put her hand in his pocket and snatched out an unpolished, stubby, evil cylinder with a square grip which perfectly fitted her hand.
"Look out, Freddy! You hurt!"
He laughed again. His lips, repulsive and cruel, crushed hers. Her smothered crying was bitter.
An explosion, slightly muffled, crowded the room with sound. Another followed.
