THE UNSPEAKABLE GENTLEMAN
left him, suddenly his lips curled back in a smile devoid of humor, and he leapt at the lantern. He leapt, and at the same instant, as perfectly timed as though the whole matter had been carefully rehearsed, Brutus' great bulk had streaked across the deck, crashing towards Mr. Sims like an unleashed fury. The speed of it, the unexpectedness, the sheer audacity, held the men around us motionless. Mr. Sims had barely time to level the pistol he was holding; but when he fired the deck was in darkness.
"This way, Mademoiselle," came my father's voice, and I ran towards it. "Hold them off, Brutus," he was calling. "Ha! It is you, my son."
While he was speaking, he darted lightly aft, and I followed. Behind me came the confused bable of struggling men. Someone was calling for a light, and someone was shrieking for help. A man with a lantern was running forward. I tripped him and we fell together, and then I felt a hand on my collar. It dragged me to my feet. I struck at it blindly, while I felt myself being half pulled, half carried through the black. And then I heard my father's voice again, close beside me, as slow and cold as ever.
"Close the door, Brutus," he said. "Listen
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