"Gi' me that timepiece!"
She hesitated, with her eyes meeting his. He swung out a hand, caught the watch, and with a quick jerk broke the chain from her neck.
"Now the junk out o' them drawers!" he commanded.
She turned to the dressing-table, the man with the revolver stepping after her. He stood directly behind her, with his head thrust forward like the head of a fighting-cock, following every move she made.
Kestner could wait no longer. He had suffered too much through the interference of others; and time, he knew, was terribly precious.
His rubbers made his footsteps noiseless as he glided into the room. When he sprang for the man with the revolver it was with a down-sweep of two outstretched arms.
That impact, from a quarter so unexpected, not only sent the man staggering forward, but struck the poised right arm with the revolver sharply floorward, the sudden finger pressure on the trigger exploding one chamber as they fell. But Kestner's grip on the other man was well placed and that other man's arms were pinioned close to his side as the two of them went down.
The woman swung about with a sound, half-gasp and half-scream, at the struggle so close to her. That struggle was still going on as she suddenly ran forward, stooped down, and wrenched the firearm from the clutch of the overtaxed burglar. Then she backed away, conscious that she was mistress of the situation.
Kestner heard her sharp call of command to him. But he ignored it, for his fighting blood was up and his
