“Bolen went off. Now, I thought, my opportunity had come. The hall-door, the door that opened upon the grounds, was in a straight line, not more than twenty feet distant from me. I looked at Bernard Peixada. He was standing a yard or so to my right, in manifest unconcern. I drew one deep breath, mustered my utmost courage, prayed to God for strength, made a dash forward, reached the door, despite my lameness, and had my hand upon the knob, before Bernard Peixada appeared to realize what had occurred. But then—when he did realize—then in two bounds he attained my side. The next thing I knew, he had grasped my arm with one hand, and had twined the fingers of the other hand around my throat. I could feel the sharp nails cutting into my flesh.
“‘Ah!’ he cried—a loud, piercing cry, half of surprise, half of triumph. ’Ah!’ And then he swore a brutal oath.
“At his touch, Mr. Hetzel, I ceased to be a woman; I became a wild beast. It was like a wild beast, that I now fought. Insensible to pain, aware only of a fury that was no longer controllable in my breast, I fought there with Bernard Peixada in battle royal. Needless to detail our maneuvers. I fought with him to such good purpose that ere a great while he had to plead for quarter, as I had had to plead up-stairs a few moments ago. Quarter I gave him. I flung him away from me. He tottered and fell upon the floor.
“Now I looked around. This was how things stood: Bernard Peixada lay—half lay, half sat—upon the floor, preparing to get up. Edward Bolen, his dull countenance a picture of amazement and stupefaction, was advancing toward us from the lower end of the hall. And—and—on a chair—directly in front of me—not two feet away—together with a hat, a pair of overshoes, a bunch of keys, a lantern—I descried my deliverance—a pistol!
“Quick as thought, I sprang forward. Next moment the pistol was mine. Again I looked around. The situation was still much the same. Clasping the butt of the pistol firmly in my hand, and gathering what assurance I could from the feeling of it, I set out once more to open the door and gain the outside of the house.
“I thought I was victress now—indisputably victress. But it transpired that I had my claims yet to assert. I slid back the bolts of the door, unhindered, it is true; but before I had managed to turn the knob and pull the door open, Edward Bolen and Bernard Peixada sprang upon me.
“There was a struggle. How long it lasted, I do not know. I heard the pistol go off—a sharp, crashing, deafening report—once, twice: who pulled the trigger, I scarcely knew. Who was wounded, I did not know. All was confusion and pain and noise, blood and fire and smoke, horror and sickness and bewilderment. I saw nothing—knew nothing—understood nothing. I was beside myself. It was a delirium. I was helpless—irresponsible.
“In the end, somehow, I got that door open. Through it all, that idea had clung in my mind—to get the door open, somehow, at any cost. Well, I got it open. I felt the fresh air upon my cheek, the perfume of the garden in my nostrils. The breeze swept in, and cut a path through the smoke, and made the gas jets flicker. Then I saw—I saw that I was free. I saw that my persecutors were no longer to be feared. I saw Edward Bolen and Bernard Peixada lying prone and bleeding upon the marble pavement at my feet.
“I have explained to you, Mr. Hetzel, the circumstances of Bernard Peixada’s death. It is not necessary for me to dwell upon its consequences. At least, I need merely outline them. I need merely tell you that in due order I was taken prisoner, tried for Bernard Peixada’s murder, and acquitted.
“I was taken prisoner that very night. Next morning they brought me here—to the same prison that I am again confined in now. Here I was visited by Mr. Nathan. I had sent for him, addressing him in care of the sexton of our synagogue; and he came.