“Then you absolutely refuse, at any price?”
“I do!”
They looked at each other across the table, defeat flushing the dusky face of the Strangler with black blood. There was nothing but utter fearlessness in the face of the young American.
The Frenchman turned his head toward the lamp, and gave a sudden great puff. Then, as it went out, plunging the room in darkness, he sprang to one side, and flung himself bodily across the table, his hands diving out in search of a human throat!
CHAPTER XII.
M. DE VILLEFORT.
Frank Merriwell’s movements had been equally swift. The instant the light went out, he swung his body far to one side, and thus it happened that Bruant’s hands grasped nothing when he made that savage clutch across the table. But the violence of his spring flung the table against Frank, who was unable to extricate himself, and over they went, with a crash, upon the floor.
A curse escaped the lips of the Strangler.
“You can’t escape my hands!” he hissed.
He caught hold of Merry, and it was wonderful how swiftly his hands leaped up to the throat of the young American, and fastened there. Frank felt that the supreme moment had come. He pushed the muzzle of his revolver against one of the fellow’s elbows, and fired upward. The bullet must have shattered the man’s arm, and the hold on Frank’s throat relaxed in a moment.