snapped a quick glance over his shoulder and saw Bent Nose grinning evilly, slapping a truncheon across one meaty palm as he advanced on his prey from behind while his fellows blocked the opening to the next street. The alley was effectively sealed at both ends. The woman slipped behind Bent Nose and vanished like a wraith as soon as Alex turned around.
Cursing his own stupidity, Alex inhaled cold air in a vain attempt to clear his head while it still rested on his shoulders. Pure reflex led him to extract the blade from his boot. The sight of it gleaming in the moonlight stopped the croupier's advance.
"Now, gov, alls we want is th' blunt. 'And it over 'n no one gets 'urt." The malice glittering in his eyes belied the statement.
Alex cursed silently. He had not carried his pistol this evening because it created a noticeable bulge in his new jacket. So much for sartorial splendor. He'd be lucky to get out of this alley without these pug-uglies creating a bulge on his skull... or worse. He glided closer to the ringleader, feinting with his blade. "Out of my way and you can keep your liver."
Swearing, the boxer swung his truncheon, missing Alex's head by inches but coming down on his shoulder with a nasty whack that numbed his left arm. Alex barely managed to hold on to his knife. Quickly he raised his right arm to block the second blow, smashing his foe's arm against the brick wall. The truncheon went flying from the croupier's hand but he yanked a stiletto from his waistband just as Alex moved in with his knife.
The two men wrestled, blades locked, turning in the narrow confines of the alley. Alex could hear the other two men coming up behind him and tried in vain to twist around, placing Bent Nose between himself and them. Suddenly he felt the icy hot slice of steel in his back as one of the men cried, "I 'ave 'im, Jackie!"
Before he went down, Alex swept his foot behind the croupier's knee and shoved hard, then turned, slashing out in the opposite direction with his blade. He sliced the second thief's throat cleanly. As the man gurgled and dropped, Bent Nose recovered his footing and started to lunge in for the kill.
Alex could do nothing to stop him since he was engaged in dealing with the third assailant. Just as he slipped in beneath the thug's blade and drove his own home, he felt the hot breath of death coming up behind him. The wound in his back burned like liquid fire and he could feel the wet stickiness of his own blood rolling down his breeches. Got to turn around and face him. Everything began to fade. He knew he was done for as his knees started to buckle.
Chapter Four
Drum heard the sounds of the scuffle coming from the dark alleyway, the yelping cry of a street tough being cut, the breathless hiss of steel on steel. The latter sound was intimately familiar to him. Swiftly and silently he made his way to the fight, withdrawing a gleaming blade from inside his fashionable silver-handled walking stick.
As he approached, Drum saw Alex on his knees, crumpling to the ground. The brute behind him started to lower his knife to deliver the final blow when he felt the prick of cold steel puncture the side of his neck. He started to turn, but the blade only sliced further.
"I wouldn't try it, old fellow. Stand up and move away from Mr. Blackthorne, there's a lad," the dandy offered with mocking encouragement as the huge prizefighter stood.
Deprived of his prey, the assailant snarled an oath when he recognized the little toff. He moved his head to evade the sword, intent on lunging in under it. He had a good eight inches' advantage in reach, not to mention being at least four stone heavier. It should have worked. But Jackie Elem underestimated his slightly built foe's skill with a blade. Alvin Frances Edward Drummond had trained
Cursing his own stupidity, Alex inhaled cold air in a vain attempt to clear his head while it still rested on his shoulders. Pure reflex led him to extract the blade from his boot. The sight of it gleaming in the moonlight stopped the croupier's advance.
"Now, gov, alls we want is th' blunt. 'And it over 'n no one gets 'urt." The malice glittering in his eyes belied the statement.
Alex cursed silently. He had not carried his pistol this evening because it created a noticeable bulge in his new jacket. So much for sartorial splendor. He'd be lucky to get out of this alley without these pug-uglies creating a bulge on his skull... or worse. He glided closer to the ringleader, feinting with his blade. "Out of my way and you can keep your liver."
Swearing, the boxer swung his truncheon, missing Alex's head by inches but coming down on his shoulder with a nasty whack that numbed his left arm. Alex barely managed to hold on to his knife. Quickly he raised his right arm to block the second blow, smashing his foe's arm against the brick wall. The truncheon went flying from the croupier's hand but he yanked a stiletto from his waistband just as Alex moved in with his knife.
The two men wrestled, blades locked, turning in the narrow confines of the alley. Alex could hear the other two men coming up behind him and tried in vain to twist around, placing Bent Nose between himself and them. Suddenly he felt the icy hot slice of steel in his back as one of the men cried, "I 'ave 'im, Jackie!"
Before he went down, Alex swept his foot behind the croupier's knee and shoved hard, then turned, slashing out in the opposite direction with his blade. He sliced the second thief's throat cleanly. As the man gurgled and dropped, Bent Nose recovered his footing and started to lunge in for the kill.
Alex could do nothing to stop him since he was engaged in dealing with the third assailant. Just as he slipped in beneath the thug's blade and drove his own home, he felt the hot breath of death coming up behind him. The wound in his back burned like liquid fire and he could feel the wet stickiness of his own blood rolling down his breeches. Got to turn around and face him. Everything began to fade. He knew he was done for as his knees started to buckle.
Chapter Four
Drum heard the sounds of the scuffle coming from the dark alleyway, the yelping cry of a street tough being cut, the breathless hiss of steel on steel. The latter sound was intimately familiar to him. Swiftly and silently he made his way to the fight, withdrawing a gleaming blade from inside his fashionable silver-handled walking stick.
As he approached, Drum saw Alex on his knees, crumpling to the ground. The brute behind him started to lower his knife to deliver the final blow when he felt the prick of cold steel puncture the side of his neck. He started to turn, but the blade only sliced further.
"I wouldn't try it, old fellow. Stand up and move away from Mr. Blackthorne, there's a lad," the dandy offered with mocking encouragement as the huge prizefighter stood.
Deprived of his prey, the assailant snarled an oath when he recognized the little toff. He moved his head to evade the sword, intent on lunging in under it. He had a good eight inches' advantage in reach, not to mention being at least four stone heavier. It should have worked. But Jackie Elem underestimated his slightly built foe's skill with a blade. Alvin Frances Edward Drummond had trained
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