Prensky sensed the change. He wrested his hand free and drove a swift knife blow toward his enemy.
The Shadow’s arm swung sidewise as the point of the blade had almost reached his neck. The Shadow’s blow hit Prensky’s wrist, and the knife shot by, a fraction of an inch from the vein which it had been aimed to sever!
Prensky, knocked off balance by the force of the thrust which The Shadow had so narrowly avoided, lost precious moments as he sought to recover himself. The Shadow’s waning strength was spurred. He threw his adversary sidewise, and managed to press his entire weight upon that free right arm.
Off behind The Shadow’s back, Prensky’s hand was waving wildly as it sought some way to drive the point into the unguarded back. The Shadow, grimly battling for life, prevented the opportunity which the Russian needed.
Locked in a firm hold, neither could gain a new advantage. Prensky’s arm was becoming numb from the pressure that rested upon it. The quivering fingers lost their hold upon the knife. The steel blade clattered on the thin rug near the fireplace.
The Shadow heard that noise. It gave him a new opportunity. With a sudden twist, he rolled free from Prensky’s clutch. His body revolved safely over the flat blade of the knife.
With his left hand, The Shadow caught an ornamental pillar at the side of the fireplace near the window.
With his right he turned to seize the knife.
Here, fortune favored Prensky. He was rising to his knees when he saw The Shadow reach. The knife lay upon the end of a small, matlike rug. Prensky, thrown back by the recoil from The Shadow’s quick action, was a full yard from the gleaming blade. His hands were upon the nearer end of the rug.
With remarkable quickness of mind, Prensky snatched the end of the rug and yanked it toward himself.