A stifled cry escaped Harry.
He was knocked down and struck the floor with a crash.
As his head went back, with the Frenchman's grip on his windpipe, his skull banged against the door-casing.
He was stunned.
"Lena! Lena!" roared La Croix.
"What is it, Paul?" asked the woman, appearing in the doorway.
"Breeng a light—queek!" he panted.
She struck a match and he saw that Harry was senseless.
With a look of evil triumph on his dark face, the man seized the boy, dragged him into the room and his wife locked the door.