Then he wheeled, and made for Irene’s assailant.
The instant Dalroy appeared at the door the girl had caught the Prussian’s thumb in her strong teeth, and not only bit him to the bone but held on. With a loud bellow of “Help! Come quickly!” he released her, and struck fiercely with his left hand. Yet this gentle girl, who had never taken part in any more violent struggle than a school romp, had the presence of mind to throw herself backward, and thus discount the blow, while upsetting her adversary’s balance. But her clenched teeth did not let go. It came out long afterwards that she was a first-rate gymnast. One day, moved by curiosity on seeing some performance in a circus, she had essayed the stage trick of hanging head downward from a cross-bar, and twirling around another girl’s body girdled by a strap working on a swivel attached to a strong pad which she bit resolutely. Then she discovered a scientific fact which very few people are aware of. The jaw is, perhaps, the strongest part of the human frame, and can exercise a power relatively far greater than that of the hands. Of course, she could not have held out for long, but she did thwart and delay the maddened Prussian during two precious seconds. Even when he essayed to choke her she still contrived to save herself by seizing his free hand.
By that time Dalroy had leaped to the rescue. Shortening the rifle in the way familiar to all who have practised the bayonet exercise, he drove it against the Prussian’s neck. The jagged stump inflicted a wound which looked worse than it was; but the mere shock of the blow robbed the man of his senses, and he fell like a log.
In order to come within striking distance, Dalroy had to jump over Busch. Old Joos, piping in a weird falsetto, had sprung at the fat major and spitted him in the stomach with all four prongs of the fork. Busch toppled over backward with a fearsome howl, the chair breaking under his weight combined with a frantic effort to escape. The miller went with him, and dug the terrible weapon into his soft body as though driving it into a truss of straw. Maertz, a lusty fellow, had made shorter work of his man, because one prong had reached the German’s heart, and he was stilled at once. But Joos thrust and thrust again, even using a foot to bury the fork to its shoulder.
This was the most ghastly part of a thrilling episode. Busch writhed on the floor, screaming shrilly for mercy, and striving vainly to stay with his hands the deadly implement from eating into his vitals.
That despairing effort gave the miller a ghoulish satisfaction. “Aha!” he chortled, “you laughed at Lafarge! Laugh now, you swine! That’s for the doctor, and that’s for my wife, and that’s for my daughter, and that’s for me!”
Dalroy did not attempt to stop him. These men must die. They had come to the mill to destroy; it was just retribution that they themselves should be destroyed. His coolness in this crisis was not the least important factor in a situation rife with peril. His method of attack had converted a fight against heavy odds into a speedy and most effectual slaughter. But that was only the beginning. Even while the frenzied yelling of the squirming Busch was subsiding into a frothy gurgle he went to the door and listened. A battery of artillery was passing at a trot, and creating din enough to drown the cries of a hundred Busches.
He looked back over his shoulder. Madame Joos was on her knees, praying. The poor woman had no thought but that her last hour had come. Happily, she was spared the sight of her husband’s vengeance. Happily, too, none of the women fainted. Léontine was panting and sobbing in Maertz’s arms. Irene, leaning against the wall near the fireplace, was gazing now at Joos, now at the fallen man at her feet, now at Dalroy. But her very soul was on fire. She, too, had yielded to the madness of a life-and-death struggle. Her eyes were dilated. Her bosom rose and fell with laboured breathing. Her teeth were still clenched, her lips parted as though she dreaded to find some loathsome taste on them.
Maertz seemed to have retained his senses, so Dalroy appealed to him. “Jan,” he said quietly, “we must go at once. Get your master and the others outside. Then extinguish the lamp. Hurry! We haven’t a second to spare.”
Joos heard. Satisfied now that the fork had been effective, he straightened his small body and said shrilly, “You go, if you like. I’ll not leave my money to be burnt with my house.—Now, wife, stir yourself. Where’s that key?”