For a second there was a sharp tussle, the Italian raising the alarm, but in a few moments I found myself, with Craig and Sommerville, inside the house.
Those moments were indeed exciting ones. Craig's only thought was for Lola's safety, and I saw him rush down the prettily-furnished hall and take her in his arms.
Shouts were raised on all sides.
In the scurry old Vernon dashed out of the room on the left and, meeting Lola with her lover, raised the revolver he had drawn and fired point-blank at her.
Fortunately, he missed. One of the detectives instantly closed with him, and I sprang to the officer's assistance. The old fellow, his face livid, his eyes staring wildly from his head, fought like a tiger, trying to turn his weapon upon us. He had forced the barrel of his big revolver right against my jaw, and was in the act of firing, when I ducked my head, and seizing his wrist, twisted it.
At that moment there was a loud explosion, and before I knew the truth I found his grip relaxing.
The weapon had been turned upon him as he, in desperation, had fired, and the bullet, entering his brain, had struck him dead.
He collapsed in our arms and we laid him upon the tiled floor.
Within the room, whence the old man had come, a desperate struggle was in progress, and entering, I found it to be a small library, at one end of which, upon a large table, was arranged a quantity of electrical apparatus—the various instruments necessary for wireless telegraphy. Close to this table, as we entered, stood Jules Jeanjean in the hands of Benham and the two detectives, while Rayner was standing covering the culprit resolutely with the revolver which he had wrenched from the prisoner's grasp.