Kinnon's revolver lay in the bottom of the car; the girl could feel it with her shaking hands. There was only one thing to do.
She quickly raised it, closed her eyes, and fired. The shot went wide, for she had aimed it low, at his knees. But it served to fix her position in the mind of her assailant; and again she saw the naked steel flash and shimmer in the darkness. She fired again, before it had time to reach her.
She knew the bullet had broken his arm, even before his grasp on the hand-rail relaxed. She saw him sway back, helplessly, and then topple and fall outward, against the stringpiece of the pier. She stood up, and looked back for her companion. She could just make out the two men still struggling back and forth, doggedly, determinedly. Then she heard a short scream of agony, for one of the strugglers had caught a forefinger of the other and levered it resolutely back, until it snapped and broke at the third joint. Then, even before that cry of pain died away, she saw one man raise the other up, bodily, and bring him down with all his remaining strength on the close-packed cartridge-boxes. The blow seemed to stun him; before his senses came back to him his panting adversary had taken advantage of that helplessness,
