remembered O'Brien's murderous expression when he had left the cabin. He remembered, too, how persistent O'Brien had been that he should write to Gilda. It would suit O'Brien to be rid of him for good.
He slid off the bunk, feeling cold sweat on his face.
'He's got a gun!' he said. 'We haven't a chance against him.'
'We've got to tackle him,' Ken said sharply. 'Come on. We can't handle him in here.'
'Give me the key,' Johnny said wildly. 'I'll lock myself in. You go for the police.'
'Don't be a fool! He'd break the door in and get to you. We've got to handle this ourselves!'
Ken's heart sank at the sight of Johnny's white, twitching face. He wasn't surprised when Johnny said, 'Leave me out of it! I'm not going up there.'
Any moment now Tux would be down. He had to find a weapon. A quick look around Johnny's cabin convinced him there was nothing he could use except a rather flimsy chair, so he stepped into the passage and opened the door opposite, groped for the light switch and turned it on.
The only likely weapon he could see was a half-empty bottle of whisky that stood on the table. He rammed in the cork and picked it up. As he moved back to the door, he heard Tux coming down the companion ladder. There was no time to reach Johnny's cabin. He snapped up the light switch, and, his heart hammering, he leaned against the wall by the door and waited.
Tux came along the passage, humming under his breath. Ken caught sight of him through the half-open door. His fingers tightened on the neck of the bottle.
Johnny had also heard Tux coming and had hastily shut his door.
Tux paused outside Johnny's door, attempted to turn the key, but finding it unlocked, he abruptly stopped humming.
Ken watched him through the crack between the hinges end of the door and the door-post. He held his breath as Tux suddenly jerked out a snubnosed automatic from inside his coat.
Tux turned the handle and kicked the door wide open.
Over his shoulder, Ken could see Johnny backed up against the opposite wall, his face waxen.
'Hello, Johnny,' Tux said softly. 'Who unlocked the door?'
'How do I know?' Johnny said hoarsely, staring at the gun. 'Maybe O'Brien forgot to lock it. What does it matter? I'm leaving, anyway.'
'That's right,' Tux said, and he slipped the gun back into his hip pocket. 'You're going on a hell of a long journey.'
Ken began to creep across the passage towards him.
The boss is sick of you, Johnny, and I don't blame him,' Tux said. 'I've got a barrel for you and a snug-fitting cement overcoat.'
'You wouldn't do that to me I' Johnny gasped, his eyes bolting out of his head. 'O'Brien wouldn't stand for it! Keep away from me I'
Ken jumped forward and aimed a violent blow at Tux's head with the bottle, but Tux was too quick for him. He heard Ken's movement behind him and the swish of the descending bottle and he ducked sideways.
The bottle crashed down on his right shoulder, making him stagger. Fragments of glass and whisky exploded over him.
Cursing, his arm momentarily numbed, Tux spun around.
More frightened that he had ever been before, Ken swung a wild, hard punch at Tux's head, but Tux slipped the punch and caught Ken under the heart with a jarring left jab that staggered him.
Johnny made a rush for the door, but Tux kicked out, catching Johnny above the knee, bringing him down.
Before Tux could get his eyes back on Ken, Ken had jumped in close and grabbed his arms. It was like catching hold of a gorilla. Tux threw him off with a heave of his massive shoulders. He jumped away and set his back against the cabin wall.
Johnny scrambled up and backed away while Ken stood by the door, staring at Tux.
'So you've found a pal,' Tux said, his small eyes gleaming viciously. 'Well, okay, the barrel's big enough to take you both.' His hand whipped behind him and reappeared holding a short stabbing knife. 'Who's first?'
Both Ken and Johnny recoiled at the sight of the knife and Tux grinned. He began to edge forward.
Ken snatched up the chair and thrust it at Tux. One of the legs narrowly missed Tux's face as he ducked under it, and he cursed; catching hold of the chair leg with his left hand, he tried to pull Ken on to the knife blade.
He was too strong for Ken, and to prevent himself being pulled forward, Ken had to let go of the chair.
Tux tossed the chair away and darted forward. Ken hit out blindly, and his fist crashed into Tux's face as the knife flashed.
Ken had no idea how he avoided the thrust. He felt the blade cut into his coat and he twisted sideways. He fell against Tux, grabbed hold of Tux's knife wrist with both hands and threw his whole weight on Tux's arm. 'Get him!' he shouted frantically to Johnny, who, instead of going to Ken's help, tried to reach the door. As he shoved past the struggling men, Tux grabbed him by the throat with his left hand and pinned him against the wall.
It was as much as Ken could do to control Tux's right arm. He hung on, his Angers squeezing Tux's fingers against the knife handle, trying to make him drop it.
Tux hooked his leg around Ken's, heaved and upset Ken, sending him sprawling on the floor. He tried to hang
