The Blue Lights: A Detective Story

by Frederic Arnold Kummer

The lock, a cheap affair, was torn loose in a twinkling, and an instant later the two men had grappled in the center of the room.

The detective's one desire was to get to the window, remove the red light which he knew was flashing its fateful message across the housetops, and substitute for it a blue light, which he hoped even now might shine forth in time to redeem the situation.

This, however, the chauffeur was equally determined to prevent. He realized that he was caught, that his complicity in the affair was known, and that he must warn his comrades of his danger, so that, by refusing to give up the boy, they might effect his release. He was fighting for his liberty as desperately as Duvall was fighting for that of Mr. Stapleton's child.

The two men were evenly matched. The chauffeur was perhaps the stronger, in shoulders and arms, due to his profession. The constant grip upon the steering wheel had given to his upper body muscles like steel.

The detective, though somewhat less powerful in this direction, was stronger in the back and legs. He had been an athlete, at college, and his recent life upon the farm at home had toughened and hardened him from head to foot.

He rushed at his opponent, threw his arms around the latter's waist, and strove to lift him and throw him to the floor.

The chauffeur at the same time got his right arm about Duvall's throat, and with his left did his best to gouge out one of the latter's eyes. His was the style of fighting that considers not means, but results.

For a moment they swayed heavily about the room, the detective burying his face in his opponent's side to protect his eyes, and at the same time striving with all his might to force him back toward the bed.

François, however, fought well. He began to compress his adversary's throat in a choking grip of wrist and forearm which threatened to put an end to the struggle in short order. At the same time his left thumb continually sought the detective's eyes.

Suddenly it reached one of them. Duvall felt a blinding sense of pain as the thumb nail sank into the soft and tender muscles about the eye. The shock was fatal to the plans of the chauffeur; for it raised up in his opponent a great and deadly rage, that for an instant gave him the strength of a madman. He raised his opponent from the floor as though the latter had been a child, broke the grip upon his throat by straightening his head, and with a mighty heave hurled him to the floor.