swerved to the left, past Miller, and around the side of the guard as the latter struck out for the second time. He threw out his right arm and at the same time raised his right knee. The arm whipped around the guard’s neck like a snake; the knee thumped against the small of the guard’s back. The gray head snapped backward, the eyes bulging; for the fraction of a second the body arched itself, still up, then broke and slapped the floor.
Two trusties were coming on the run; the burglar, still in line, pivoted like a mad top on one heel, his right leg held out horizontally; there was a sickening thud, and the first trusty crumpled with a gasping hiccough. The burglar’s right hand went to his trouser band, then flashed up—and the second trusty threw himself face down upon the floor. A gasp went through the petrified line; the burglar held in his right hand a heavy black revolver. Miller’s hand went to his waist band in a swift fumble; it rose; it also held a heavy black revolver. Then the line dissolved in a chaos of fleeing convicts.
