Bruce came to the rescue. He had seen Vincent fall, and he realized the strength of the antagonist. He had not anticipated such a battle or he would have seized a wrench from the car. His help was needed instantly now; he hurled himself upon the frenzied man and rolled him in the dust.
With this advantage, Bruce expected quick results. Yet he was suddenly overpowered; the tables were turned. He found himself on his back, his arms beneath him. Clawlike hands were at his throat. As he stared upward he saw a hideous, wizened face, with wicked, glaring eyes.
Bruce Duncan was at the mercy of that apelike creature that had entered his room a month ago. It was the same brutal face that he had seen before!
The monster possessed prodigious strength. It was choking him to death. Why didn't Vincent come to his rescue? Vincent, or the other man, whom they had aided? Duncan's head was beating within, like the sound of a drum. His eyes seemed bulging from his head. He could even feel the claws that were buried in his neck.
Suddenly the pressure relaxed. Duncan was still powerless; the creature's hands were still at his throat.
But its head had turned sideways. It was waiting, unwilling to loose its victim, yet hesitating for some unknown reason. It seemed to be listening for something.
As Duncan breathed, the drumming ceased, and his head cleared. Then to his ears came a sound that he had heard on that same eventful night. It was a low, hissing whistle from far away; a penetrating whistle that seemed to echo through his brain.
The creature rose quickly. With long, jumping strides it dashed to the side of the road. As he propped himself on one elbow, Bruce Duncan saw the strange monster disappear into the surrounding woods.
CHAPTER XX. TWISTED LIPS
Some one helped Bruce Duncan to his feet. It was the man who had been struggling with the creature when the coupe had arrived.