In another instant, the mad assailant was flinging himself upon the amazed American. Cleve leaped instinctively to one side.
The charging man was none too accurate. His blade sliced Cleve’s sleeve. But this momentary escape was no salvation. As Cleve look up, he saw two new attackers spring from his right.
The door was behind him, but there was no escape now. With the bright blades descending, Cleve saw death, and dropped to the floor.
That action made him helpless. His hand had no time to gain the gun from the hidden pocket. Yet Cleve’s futile effort to elude the knife thrusts actually contributed to the unexpected happening that thwarted the murderous attackers.
Two sharp shots cracked from the blackened doorway. The well-aimed missives found their marks. The first smashed the wrist of the one attacker, the other reached the shoulder of a knife-swinging Chinaman.
Both were upon Cleve now. One knife was poised above his head, but the hand that held it was guided by a deadened arm. The thrust was futile, and as Cleve struck the threatening hand, the blade flew free along the floor.
As he rolled free from his crippled antagonists, Cleve encountered a greater menace. The Chinaman who had made the first thrust was back again, determined not to miss, a second time.
A huge, surly fighter, he pounced upon his prey with upraised arm, and the broad-bladed dirk seemed certain of its victim. For Cleve was half lying on the floor.
Again an automatic spoke from the door. The Chinese assassin dropped his blade. It clattered beside Cleve.
Once again, the hidden marksman had prevailed. The Chinaman was shot in the hand. He dropped to the floor, pressing his wounded fingers against his body.