slowed the rush of my opponent, and in the brief instant he halted, a short right sent him reeling to the wall. But the noise of our struggle had reached the men below us and now came shouts and running footsteps as the aroused gangsters hurried to the aid of those above.
Another ten seconds and they would be upon me. I knew well what I could expect once they had poured through the doorway, were not that little barrier quickly bolted to them. Already several had gained the top step and were racing down the corridor. Between me and the passage stood the dazed and bleeding guardsman.
A quick win was my one hope, and I sprang forward to complete the havoc my trained fists had begun. A left feint brought up his guard, and then as the man pawed awkwardly toward me, a smashing roundhouse right crashed into his mid-section. Even as he crumpled, I slammed the door and shot the lock in place, just as the first of those without hurled themselves against it.
Even now it was but seconds till they would be upon me. Not for long could that little barrier withstand the pounding that was being sent against it, for a single bolt was all that held it.
A bullet flew through the door and flattened against the wall. I looked around for some means of escape. In one corner a closet, evidently a clothes-press, was in a dirty, ruinous condition. There was no exit that might lead to any adjoining chambers, nor did the ceiling reveal a trap-door or skylight. My eyes fell on a tiny window. I flung it open and looked out.
Above, for several stories rose the dark outlines of the tenement, as well as another gloomy structure but a score of feet beyond. No light came from the building before me, nor was there anything to show that it was other than deserted. Below was an impenetrable blackness. It might have been twenty stories to the ground beneath. There was no way of knowing, nor did I have the means of exploring its dark depths.
Behind me the smashing grew ever louder. They were howling like wolves, and bullets were pouring into the room. A splinter falling inward told the weakening of the door. Another half-moment and it would crumple.
There was but one slight chance, and I took it. Climbing through the window, I grasped the narrow sill, and lowered my body to its full length in the blackness, my legs groping wildly for some support. On both sides rose dark outlines of brick and stone, above which gleamed a patch of starlit sky. What lay below I could only guess, yet even as I wondered, there came a yell of triumph and the rending of wood.
Then as the door broke open and the leading gunman burst into the room amid a shower of splinters, I released my fingers from their slender hold and dropped to the blackness and unknown depths below.
3. What Happened on the Liner
It must have been madness that caused me to release my hold on the narrow sill and plunge to the black void below. But the instinct of self-preservation was there also, and as the unseen depths rose up to meet me, I tensed my muscles for the sharp impact.
Ten feet! Ten feet only did I fall, and then came that sudden and surprising stop in the tiny alleyway between the two houses. My prison had been but one story high!
But there was no time for rejoicing. Even as I gained my feet I heard
