Vining gave a shout and started for me, reversing and clubbing his revolver as he came, while the other fellow, who had just drawn his head in the window, ran forward, crouched and flung himself at my legs.
Vining caught the look in my eye and swerved aside just before he reached me, so that I had time to bark my knuckles on the bullet head of the third man. It spoiled his tackle, but his shoulder struck my legs and we went down together. I saw Vining coming for me again, and as I went over backwards, I contrived to catch his accomplice by the shoulders and hoist him over my head. Vining’s blow with the butt of the revolver must have fallen on the man’s back, for I felt the thud of it and the fellow gave a yell of pain. In an instant I had wriggled free and struggled to my feet. Vining had jumped back and was waiting for me, his gun pointed again and murder in his eye. Nevertheless, madness still held me, I ducked my head a little and went for him. Then the revolver went off almost in my face. My last conscious recollection was the heat of it on the top of my head.
When I regained consciousness I was in total darkness. I sat up, hanging on to a splitting head with both hands and trying to recall what had happened to me. A moment later I discovered that the back of my head was wet and sticky. From somewhere in the house there was an uproar of voices and trampling feet. I got up, felt about me, and finally located first the door and then the wall switch. The lights flared on and showed me an empty room. My assailants were gone and they had taken Moore with them.
For a moment or two I confess that I felt overwhelmed with a sense of sheer disaster. Moore was gone to goodness knew what fate—and I had done nothing to help him. And Natalie——
Then came the reflection that at least they had not taken me with them too. I was still free and still able to act on Moore’s behalf. And by this time Natalie might have reached her aunt’s house safe and sound.
A little reflection convinced me that they had left me behind because Vining’s shot had been heard. Probably the driver of their car had joined them, and the three men had carried out Moore and the dark-visaged victim of my first blow between them, unless the latter had regained consciousness. They might have even had to fight their way out through a crowd. That also probably explained the present commotion in the house, which was steadily drawing nearer. Then my heart leaped with hope. Perhaps Vining had been captured and Moore freed!
The door into the hall was closed but not locked. As I opened it a roar of voices swept up to meet me from the hall below.
I walked to the stairs and then staggered slowly down them, my hands to my head. The lower hall was full of people, including two policemen. They were all talking excitedly. But there was no sign of either Moore or Vining. I must have been a pretty object, having smeared blood from my head over most of my face, for when they caught sight of me, there was a shout of surprise and then an open-mouthed silence. I staggered on down to them unassisted.
“Officer,” I called weakly, “I have been robbed and nearly murdered. I live just around the corner. Take me home, will you? Then I’ll tell you all about it. I need a doctor.”