It was after midnight when I had come to this conclusion, and, barring
doors and windows as well as I could, I flung myself on the bed to
rest. I did not expect to sleep after the exciting events through which
I had passed; yet after a bit the train of mental pictures drawn out by
the surging memories of the night became confused and faded away, and I
sank into an uneasy slumber.
When I awoke it was with a start and an oppressive sense that somebody
else was in the room. The gas-light that I had left burning had been
put out. Darkness was intense. The beating of my own heart was the only
sound I could distinguish. I sat upright and felt for the matches that
I had seen upon the stand.
In another instant I was flung back upon the bed. Wiry fingers gripped
my throat, and a voice hissed in my ear:
"Where is he? Where is the boy? Give me your papers, or I'll wring the
life out of you!"
I was strong and vigorous, and, though taken at a disadvantage,
struggled desperately enough to break the grip on my throat and get a
hold upon my assailant.
"Where is the boy?" gasped the voice once more; and then, as I made no
reply, but twined my arms about him, my assailant saved all his breath
for the struggle.
We rolled to the floor with a thud that shook the house, and in this
change of base I had the luck to come out uppermost. Then my courage
rose as I found that I could hold my man. I feared a knife, but if he
had one he had not drawn it, and I was able to keep his hands too busy
to allow him to get possession of it now.
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