“Ah!” he said sharply, as he fixed Harry with his eye, “Mr Harry Vine, I arrest you on a warrant. Robbery and attempt to murder.”
“No,” roared the father frantically; and he flung himself upon the officer. “Run, Harry, run!”
Louise stood clinging to the ironwork of her bedstead, sick with horror, as a terrible struggle ensued. It only lasted a few moments; and as she saw her father and the detective officer wrestling together, her brother clenched his fists, set his teeth, and dashed at them.
“No, no; run!” roared the father in a voice she did not know; and in obedience, Harry dashed through the doorway and was gone.
“You’re mad, old man!” cried the detective, tearing himself free, drawing back, and then rushing towards the door.
But with a wonderful display of activity and vigour, the old naturalist sprang at him once more, and with clenched fist struck him so fierce a blow full on the cheek, that the man swerved sidewise, and would have fallen but for the wall.
“When I come back!” he roared savagely, as he recovered himself, and, springing through the door, he bounded down the stairs after Harry Vine, father and sister staggering to the landing just as the door across the hall swung to with a heavy bang, and the sound of feet rapidly beating the shingle rose loudly on the silence of the night.