“Stay there,” Rollison called back.

He took out a pen-knife, one of the blades of which was a skeleton key, and inserted that blade into the lock. It was an easy lock to pick but his hand was painful and the handkerchief got in the way. He took it off. The teeth marks showed clearly but only the two canine teeth had broken the skin.

The lock clicked back.

Rollison pushed but the door stuck. He pushed again, the door swung open and gas rushed out at him.

CHAPTER FIVE

“The Doc”

Snub came racing up the stairs as Rollison held his breath and rushed into the room. The gas was like an invisible blanket through which he had to force his way. He saw Mellor lying on the floor with his face near the gas-fire and heard the gentle hissing.

Behind him, Snub started coughing.

Rollison turned off the gas, reached the window and saw the flock padding round the sides. He bent his elbow and crashed it through the glass. Then he took out his cigarette-case, shielded his face with one hand and smashed the pieces which stuck out round the sides in spiteful, pointed spikes. The splintering of glass merged with Snub’s coughing. The inrush of air made Rollison begin to cough but he finished his job before he gave way to it.

Snub wasn’t in the room now.

Rollison leaned against the wall, doubled up with the paroxysm, his eyes streaming. Mellor’s face was blurred but a pinky colour. He lay on his side with a pillow beneath his head, his knees bent naturally; he looked as if he were asleep.

Snub came in with a handkerchief tied round his mouth and nose, his eyes bright above it. Rollison pointed at Mellor, went to the window and breathed in the clean, fresh air, held his breath and turned round to help. Snub was lifting Mellor but the dead weight was too much for him. Rollison helped and felt as if his chest were bursting but they got the man on to the landing.

A shrill voice sounded.