the second, I had not made so much noise as a spider walking across his web. He could not see me, as the hall was darkened, and the slit between the portières no wider than the cover of a book. But, all the same, he felt danger and was on his feet like a flash, his legs braced, his head dropped between his shoulders, and a long blade flashed from somewhere and lay in his hand as a man holds a foil.
I waited for a second, feeling that the alarm might pass. Chu-Chu's eyes were on the portières. His hand went out to the oak chest and picked up some thing lying there. I caught the glint of it and whipped out my pistol, and even as I did so Chu-Chu fired point blank straight into the portières.
There was a sharp pain in my shoulder, and the pistol flew out of my hand. I tore aside the portières and leaped into the room. Chu-Chu fired again, but I ducked under his arm, grabbed his wrist and sent the knife home just under it. He squalled like a cat, and struck at me with his knife, putting the blade through my right forearm. Mad with pain, I loosened my hold of the hilt and struck him under the chin with my left fist. It was a solid, short-arm blow, and keeled him over. At the same instant somebody grabbed me from behind. I flung back my head and writhed round like a cat. A footman had me by the shoulders, but I got an arm free and landed him one between the eyes that sent him floundering across a chair. Then I turned and darted out of the door, down the stairs, grabbed up my bundle and dashed into the nearest thicket, a mass of shrubs and flowers, and out into the more open park behind. Back of the house there was a
