Like a flash, Floy transferred it to her other hand and struck out at random.
But the keen blade went home, piercing the side of his neck through, and as the blood spurted into his face, blinding him with its hot waves, he relaxed his hold and fell dizzily to the floor.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
ANOTHER INTRUDER.
Still grasping the bloody weapon, Floy looked down in terror at the body of her bleeding victim.
“Oh-h-h! I have killed the mean coward, but—I couldn’t help it—I had to do it!” she exclaimed, bursting into hysterical sobs.
“Bravo, miss, that was a brave deed! He deserved death; but if you had waited a minute longer, I would have killed him for you myself!” exclaimed an admiring voice, and a man who had been watching and listening in the corridor outside came hastily into the room.
He was a stranger to Floy, but you and I, reader, know him as the clever detective who had been searching for our heroine for several weeks.
Once he had decided that he would give up the hopeless quest, but his patron’s anxiety spurred him on to another effort.
He returned to Mount Vernon, and when he heard the story of Floy’s spirit having been seen abroad on several nights, he conceived a suspicion that the missing girl might be hidden at Suicide Place, in spite of her assertion that she would never venture near the house again.