His white hair was dabbled with patches of blood.
Baldwin was still stooping over his victim, putting in a short,
vicious blow whenever he could see a part exposed, when McMurdo
dashed up the stair and pushed him back.
"You'll kill the man," said he. "Drop it!"
Baldwin looked at him in amazement. "Curse you!" he cried. "Who
are you to interfere--you that are new to the lodge? Stand
back!" He raised his stick; but McMurdo had whipped his pistol
out of his pocket.
"Stand back yourself!" he cried. "I'll blow your face in if you
lay a hand on me. As to the lodge, wasn't it the order of the
Bodymaster that the man was not to be killed--and what are you
doing but killing him?"
"It's truth he says," remarked one of the men.
"By Gar! you'd best hurry yourselves!" cried the man below. "The
windows are all lighting up, and you'll have the whole town here
inside of five minutes."
There was indeed the sound of shouting in the street, and a
little group of compositors and pressmen was forming in the hall
below and nerving itself to action. Leaving the limp and
motionless body of the editor at the head of the stair, the
criminals rushed down and made their way swiftly along the
street.
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