He had gripped the wrist of the hand that held the knife, but in his eagerness Harry lost his clutch on the other wrist. The fellow's left hand pressed against Harry's face and pushed him backward. Harry's arms were pinned in a powerful grasp. The Shadow's agent was suddenly rendered helpless.
In the dimness he saw the outline of the snarling, jeering face. The hand with the machete was free. It poised above him, the weapon pointed toward his chest.
"Hah-hah-hah!" the Mexican's voice panted as he sneered at Vincent. "You think you can fight Pedro? Hah-hah-hah! You see this?"
The machete wriggled in Pedro's hand. It quivered for the death thrust. The big man's back was against the wall, near the grating. Harry could see the closed bars behind him.
The knife trembled as it began its downward swing.
Then, with startling suddenness, an arm shot through the grating behind the Mexican. A black-gloved hand caught Pedro's descending wrist. The huge man's powerful swing was plucked in mid-air. Harry saw a look of distorted amazement come over Pedro. The man released him suddenly. Harry fell to the floor, and his head thumped against the stone.
Though slightly dazed, he could still see what was happening. That single hand which gripped Pedro's wrist possessed superhuman power, for it was twisting the huge Mexican back and forth as though he had been made of straw.
Another thin-gloved hand came through the hers. There was a quick movement, and Pedro was hurled headlong. The machete shot from his hand and clanged on the cellar floor. The big Mexican lay still.
A click and the grating opened. Those hands had pried open the fastening in a twinkling. The bars swung inward. A black figure slipped into the cellar and stood over Harry Vincent, looming like a mammoth bat-winged creature.
It bent forward, and Harry believed that he saw two bright eyes in the depths of the black shape. An exclamation came to his parched lips.