My brother raised the pistol. As he did so the man on the floor, by a tremendous effort of strength, rose erect to his knees, flinging me headlong. Then there was a hot burst of flame close to my cheek as I lay on the floor, a deafening report, a thud and a sickening gurgle.
Something twitched a little on the ground and then lay still.
We rose to our feet together.
"Des," said my brother unsteadily, "it seems rather like murder."
"No, Francis," I whispered back, "it was justice!"
CHAPTER XX
CHARLEMAGNE'S RIDE
The hands of the clock pointed to a quarter past twelve. Funny, how my eyes kept coming back to that clock! There was a smell of warm gunpowder in the room, and the autumn sunshine, struggling feebly through the window, caught the blue edges of a little haze of smoke that hung lazily in the air by the desk in the corner. How close the room was! And how that clock face seemed to stare at me! I felt very sick....
Lord! What a draught! A gust of icy air was raging in my face. The room was still swaying to and fro....