Ruth grabbed up a bit of iron pipe from among the wreckage on the floor; and she bent over trying to strike at the man with the bludgeon.
"Help!" she called out. "Secours!"
She knew now that the man who had waited outside was no mere defender of the house; the treachery and the violence of his attack could not be explained by concern for safety of that ruin. Ruth could not think who the man might be or what was his object except that he was fighting to kill, as he struck and fought with Byrne on the floor. And Byrne, knowing it, was fighting to kill him, too.
"Secours!" Ruth screamed for help again and with her bit of iron, she struck—whom, she did not know. But they rolled away and pounded each other only a few moments more before one overcome the other. One leaped up while the other lay on the floor; the one who had leaped up, crouched down and bludgeoned the other again; so that Ruth knew that Byrne was the one who lay still. She screamed out again for help while she flung herself at the man who was bending over. But he turned about and caught her arms and held her firmly. He bent his head to hers and whispered to her while he held her.
"Weg!" The whisper warned her. It was German, "Away!" And the rest that he said was in German. "I have him for you struck dead! Careful, now! Away to Switzerland!"
He dropped Ruth and fled; she went after him, breathless, trying to cry out; but her cries were weak and unheard. He ran through the rear of the house into a narrow alley down which he disappeared; she went to the
