He, too, listened intently for
a moment. That the voice was that of a woman in distress he could
not doubt, and so he also hastened at a run in the direction of
the affrighted voice; but he was much further away than Jenssen
so that the latter reached the tent first. What the Swede found
there roused no pity within his calloused heart, only anger against
his fellow scoundrel. Meriem was still fighting off her attacker.
Malbihn still was showering blows upon her. Jenssen, streaming foul
curses upon his erstwhile friend, burst into the tent. Malbihn,
interrupted, dropped his victim and turned to meet Jenssen's
infuriated charge. He whipped a revolver from his hip. Jenssen,
anticipating the lightning move of the other's hand, drew almost
simultaneously, and both men fired at once. Jenssen was still
moving toward Malbihn at the time, but at the flash of the explosion
he stopped. His revolver dropped from nerveless fingers. For a
moment he staggered drunkenly. Deliberately Malbihn put two more
bullets into his friend's body at close range. Even in the midst
of the excitement and her terror Meriem found herself wondering at
the tenacity of life which the hit man displayed.
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