THE questioner waited. He watched the false Blake closely, as though expecting the man to betray himself by some action. Then, suddenly, the tenseness was broken.
“You are an impostor!” cried Blake. “You admit it. You have threatened me!”
He leaped forward as he spoke. His hand came from his pocket, carrying an automatic revolver. His finger was on the trigger as he raised the weapon.
Michaels reached forward and caught his wrist in a steel-like grip. Simultaneously, the door burst open and Otto dashed in, carrying a revolver. Behind him came Herbert.
“Shoot him, Otto!” exclaimed Blake. “He’s trying to kill me. Shoot! Quick!”
Before the chauffeur could obey, Michaels, with amazing strength, pulled Blake toward him. He was shielded momentarily by the other man’s body. They struggled fiercely. Blake’s gun fell to the floor.
“Help me!” called Blake, as his head turned toward the two servants. “This is the thief who entered this house last night—”
His sentence was interrupted by the overpowering grasp of his foe. Blake saw Otto holding his revolver in readiness. Herbert was standing open-mouthed, wondering what to do.
Michaels had divined Blake’s purpose. There was only one safe course for Blake to follow. He had precipitated the attack with the definite goal of killing Michaels.
Both Otto and Herbert would be witnesses in Blake’s behalf. The accidental killing of a self-confessed impostor could be explained to the police. The false Michaels, dead, would be a lesser menace than alive.