Without dropping his hands, lest the knave might shoot, Chick raised his right foot under one of the rounds of the chair on which he had been seated, then kicked it with all his strength straight at the open door.
It went direct and went like a flash.
It struck Garland squarely on the arm and breast, diverting his aim, and then fell to the floor.
Garland fired on the instant, nevertheless, and the bullet went into the ceiling.
Lady Waldmere uttered another shriek and fainted dead away on the bed.
The deafening report of the weapon was instantly followed by the bang of Chick’s revolver, whipped like a flash from his hip pocket.
In his haste, however, he had fired almost at random. The bullet clipped a lock of hair from Garland’s head, then passed within an inch of the cabman’s ear.
Both uttered a yell. Both leaped instinctively, as it were, to one side of the open door, bringing the wall between them and the detective.
That was all that Chick wanted at that moment, and he had accomplished it by taking his life in his hand.
He now laughed aloud, however, and cried: