With a cry of baffled rage, Count Blowinski gave a desperate wrench and freed himself from the lad’s grasp.
With his eyes red with rage, he again raised the knife and cried out at Jack:
“Now die!”
The knife descended, but even as it would have found its mark, it fell clattering to the floor as a revolver shot rang out.
Once, twice, Count Blowinski spun round on his heel, made a desperate effort to keep his feet; then plunged to the floor on his face.
There was a breathless silence in the room as Jack moved forward, turned the count over on his back and laid a hand over his heart. Then he looked up and said quietly:
“He’s dead.”
The lad got to his feet and turned to Lord Hastings, who still held a smoking revolver in his hand—it was he who had fired the shot that had saved Jack’s life.
“You, sir——” he began, then staggered, and before Lord Hastings could raise a hand to catch him, pitched forward across the body of the count.
Instantly the Czar became greatly excited. He waved his arms above his head and cried out: