Even as I stole back in that critical moment, my heart bounded, for I knew to whom the hand belonged. Body of Love! should not I know it in the grave? I reached Legrand.
"Ready," I said.
"You take the nearest," said he. "A jack-knife carries farther."
"I shall want it," I said. "I have only my fingers."
"You shall have it," he said grimly. "One at a time. Fingers or throat, mind you, and no noise. Have you got your muscles back? You're a strong man, Phillimore, but, by heaven! all rests on your fingers. And you have been wounded?"
"I could tear down the pillars of Gaza at this moment," I replied. "My blood's afire."
"God be with us!" he muttered, and slowly turned the handle.
The door opened inwards, and in the darkness loomed a single figure. Legrand sprang, and the two disappeared in a heap upon the floor. I had leapt to one side and was feeling in the air for my enemy, but my hands took nothing, nor could my eyes make out any other figure in the gloom. Presently something rose from the floor, and I heard Legrand's voice.
"He's alone. There was only the one."
"Yes," I whispered back. "And the mutineers are gone from here."