Again Rudolf laughed at his terrified stare.
"A bigger job than you fancied, is it ?" he asked, pushing his scarf well away from his chin.
The man gaped at him; the other's eyes asked wondering questions, but neither did he attempt to resume the attack.

The first at last found voice, and he said, "Well, it'd be damned cheap at ten crowns, and that's the living truth." His friend--or confederate rather, for such men have no friends--looked on, still amazed.
"Take up that fellow by his head and his heels," ordered Rudolf.
"Quickly! I suppose you don't want the police to find us here with him, do you?
Well, no more do I.Lift him up." As he spoke Rudolf turned to knock at the door of No.19.But even as he did so Bauer groaned.

Dead perhaps he ought to have been, but it seems to me that fate is always ready to take the cream and leave the scum.
His leap aside had served him well, after all: he had nearly escaped scot free.

As it was, the bullet, almost missing his head altogether, had just glanced on his temple as it passed; its impact had stunned, but not killed.

Friend Bauer was in unusual luck that night; I wouldn't have taken a hundred to one about his chance of life.