advantage, as long as the knife might not strike, that his right arm was free, while the assassin had only his left. With this he strove to reach his knife-hand and possess himself of the weapon. As persistently Alan foiled his purpose by dragging the knife-hand toward him and swinging it far out to one side. At the same time he struck repeatedly with his clenched right fist at the other's face. As often as not his blows failed to land; when they did land, it was lightly, for the most part; the distance between them was just a bit beyond his reach, the assassin could dodge a blow by drawing back his head, and Alan dared not unlock his feet beneath the girder in order to inch forward within better range. His blows did little damage beyond disconcerting the other, but this proved a very considerable factor in the duel. In the end they served, together with that steady, resistlessly downward and outward drag, to break the grip of the man's locked legs.
He pitched forward on his face along the girder, kicking wildly, grasping at the air. The stiletto fell and disappeared. Before Alan could release his hold, or ease the strain upon the right arm of the assassin, the fellow had slipped from the girder and hung helpless in space, dangling at the end of Alan's arm—with no more than the grip of five fingers between him and death.
Then the battle began anew, but now it was a
