The door
flew open and Sergeant Flannagan dove headlong into the
darkened room. A foot shot out from behind the opened
door, and Flannagan, striking it, sprawled upon his face
amidst the legs of the literary lights who held dog-eared
magazines rightside up or upside down, as they chanced to have
picked them up.
Simultaneously Billy Byrne and Bridge dodged through the
open doorway, banged the door to behind them, and sped
across the barroom toward the street.
As Flannagan shot into their midst the men at the table
leaped to their feet and bolted for the doorway; but the
detective was up and after them so quickly that only two
succeeded in getting out of the room. One of these generously
slammed the door in the faces of his fellows, and there they
pulled and hauled at each other until Flannagan was among
them.
In the pitch darkness he could recognize no one; but to be
on the safe side he hit out promiscuously until he had driven
them all from the door, then he stood with his back toward
it--the inmates of the room his prisoners.
Thus he remained for a moment threatening to shoot at the
first sound of movement in the room, and then he opened the
door again, and stepping just outside ordered the prisoners to
file out one at a time.
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