It
filled him with a fire that in an instant had devoured every thought or
plan he had made, and in this madness he was consumed by a single
desire--the desire to kill. And yet, as this conflagration surged through
him, it did not blind or excite him. It did not make him leap forth in
animal rage. It was something more terrible. He rose so quietly that the
others did not see or hear him in the dark outer room. They did not hear
the slight metallic click of the safety on his pistol.
For the space of a breath he stood and looked at them. He no longer sensed
the words Quade was uttering. He was going in coolly and calmly to kill
them. There was something disagreeable in the flashing thought that he
might kill them from where he stood. He would not fire from the dark. He
wanted to experience the exquisite sensation of that one first moment when
they would writhe back from him, and see in him the presence of death. He
would give them that one moment of life--just that one. Then he would kill.
With his pistol ready in his hand he stepped out into the lighted room.
"Good evening, gentlemen!" he said.
CHAPTER XIII
For a space of perhaps twenty seconds after John Aldous announced himself
there was no visible sign of life on the part of either Quade or Culver
Rann.
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