Dirk hit him in the mouth, and he went over backwards off the stool,
flailing his arms as he fell. He hit the floor with his shoulders and
rolled on to his knees spitting blood and a broken tooth from his
mouth.
'You little bastard-- he mouthed through the blood. Dirk stepped
forward with his left foot and swung his boot with the whole weight of
his body behind it. The toe of his boot thudded into the man's chest
and flung him on to his back.
,
'Christ, stop him,' shouted Henry from behind the bar. But they sat
paralyzed as Dirk stooped for the bar stool, lifted it above his head
and then brought it down, swinging his body with it as though he were
chopping a log. The heavy wooden seat hit the man in the centre of his
forehead, it hit solidly for the back of his head was against the floor
and could not give with the blow. It split his skull cleanly and twin
spurts of blood shot from his nostrils into the sawdust on the floor.
'You've killed him. ' A single voice broke the long silence that
followed.
'Yes.' Dirk agreed. I've killed him. I've killed a man. It sang
within him savagely. It came up and filled his chest so that he could
hardly breathe. And he stood over the corpse not wanting to miss a
moment of it. He felt his legs trembling under him, the muscles of his
cheeks so tight with excitement they felt they must tear.
'Yes, I killed him. ' His voice was choked with the violence of the
pleasure that gripped him. His vision narrowed down so that the dead
man's face filled the whole field of it. The forehead was deeply
dented and the eyes bulged from their sockets.
Around him there was a sudden bustle of consternation.
'You'd better send for his father.'
'I'm getting out of here!'
'No, stay where you are. Nobody must leave.'
'My God, call Doc Fraser.'
'Doc's not wanted-get the police.'
'He was so quick-like a bloody leopard-'Christ, I'm getting out of
here.'
TWo of them stooped over the body.
'Leave him!' snapped Dirk. 'Don't touch him.
a young lion of its kill. And instinctively they obeyed. They stood
up and moved away. With them everyone else drew back, leaving Dirk
standing alone.
'Get his father,' repeated Henry. 'Someone ride out and call Sean
Courtney. ' An hour later Sean strode into the room. He wore an
overcoat over his nightshirt and his boots had been pulled hurriedly
over his bare feet. He stopped on the threshold and glared around the
room, his hair in wild disorder from sleep-but when he entered, the
atmosphere in the room changed. The tense silence relaxed and every
face turned eagerly towards him.
'Mr. Courtney-thank God you've come,' blurted the young police
constable who was standing beside Dr. Fraser.
'How bad is it, Doc?' Sean asked.
