me. I also sprang up on my feet, hurling away the fellow who had gripped my other hand. For a moment I stood facing Rupert; then I darted on him. He was too quick for me: he dodged behind the man with the lantern and hurled the fellow forward against me. The lantern fell on the ground.
"Give me your stick," I heard Rupert say. "Where is it? That's right!"
Then came Rischenheim's voice again, imploring and timid:
"Rupert, you promised not to kill him!"
The only answer was a short fierce laugh. I hurled away the man who had been thrust into my arms, and sprang forward. I saw Rupert of Hentzau: his hand was raised above his head and held a stout club. I hardly know what followed: there came—all in a confused blur of instant sequence—an oath from Rupert, a rush from me, a scuffle as though someone sought to hold him back; then he was on me; I felt a great thud on my forehead, and I felt nothing more. Again I was on my back, with a terrible pain in my head and a dull dreamy consciousness of a knot of men standing over me, talking eagerly to one another.
I could not hear what they were saying; I had no great desire to hear. I fancied, somehow, that they were talking about me; they looked at me and moved their hands towards me now and again. I heard Rupert's
