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Updated: July 3, 2025
You see, there's been a lot of complaints about people being short changed, having their pockets picked, and getting doped there, and some people think it doesn't do the town any good. Some think we got to have Palura's for the sake of the town's business. I'm neutral, but I like to watch the fun. We'll go down there and look in to-night."
Just after dawn, while the rising sun was flashing through the tree tops from east to west, a motorboat driving up stream hailed as it passed. "Ai-i-i, Prebol! Palura's killed up!" Prebol shouted out for details, and the passer-by, slowing down, gave a few more: "Had trouble with the police, an' they shot him daid into his own dance floor and Mendova's no good no more!"
They had succeeded in getting the policeman into the huge den of vice, where he could not legally be without a warrant, where Palura could kill him and escape once more on the specious plea of self-defence. Terabon saw the grin of perfect hate on Palura's face as both his hands came up with automatics in them a two-handed gunman with his prey.
She gathered up her own cloak and left with reluctant footsteps. She realized that she had arrived there just one day too late to "do" Palura's. The fugitives, as they scurried by, reminded her of some description which she had read of the Sack of Rome; or was it the Fall of Babylon?
"Say, boys, do you know if Terabon and Carline landed here to-night?" "We just landed in," one answered. "I don't know." "Going up town?" "Yes " "I want to know about them " "Hit's Nelia Crele!" one exclaimed. "That's right. Hello, boys Despard Jet Cope!" "Sure! When'd you land?" "Late this evening; I was up to Palura's when " "That ain't no place fo' a lady."
There was no delay; Palura went straight through to his purpose. He disappeared in the dark and narrow entrance way and not a sound was audible except the scuffling of feet. "Palura's killed four men," the cotton broker whispered to Terabon, under his breath. What seemed an age passed. The lights flickered. Terabon looked about in alarm lest that gang
"Now what the boys goin' to do when they make a haul?" Prebol demanded in great disgust of Parson Rasba. "Fust the planters shot up whiskey boats; then the towns went dry, an' now they closed up Palura's an' shot him daid. Wouldn't hit make yo' sick, Parson! They ain't no fun left nowheres for good sports." Rasba could not make any comment. He was far from sure of his understanding.
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