It started her moving against her will.

She paused and looked back with an imploring gesture.
"Go on," he repeated.
And she passed out of the door and stood there, a glimmering figure against the night.

Still there was not a shot fired, though all those guns were trained on Bard.
"You've got me Drew," he called, "but I've got you, and your hirelings--all of you, and I'm going to take you to hell with me--to hell!" He jerked his gun up and fired, not at a man, for the bullet struck the thin chain which held the gasoline lamp suspended, struck it with a clang, and it rushed down to the table.

It struck, but not with the loud explosion which Bard had expected.

There was a dull report, as of a shot fired at a great distance, the scream of Sally from the door, and then liquid fire spurted from the lamp across the table, whipped in a flare to the ceiling, and licked against the walls.