Fleck's strength pulling loose his fingers from the weapon was
too much for him. As he felt himself being disarmed, in a frenzy he tore
himself loose from both of them and seizing a chair, swung it with all
his strength against the hanging lamp above the table that supplied the
only light in the room.
In an instant the room was in darkness. The four from the front, rushing
back to aid their comrades in answer to old Otto's cries, found
themselves unable to distinguish friend from foe. Fleck's men dared not
use their weapons in the darkness. Back and forth through the room the
opposing forces struggled, the air thick with cries and muttered oaths,
the sound of blows making strange medley with the rapid shuffling
of feet.
Jane, remembering the electric torch that had been carried by the man
Carter had struck down, felt her way to the door and retrieved it from
his senseless fingers. Returning, she flashed it about the room,
endeavoring to assist Fleck by its light. As she let the beam fall on
Frederic she heard a muttered curse at her side and turned to see Thomas
Dean aiming his revolver directly at the younger Hoff. With a quick
movement she thrust up his arm, and the bullet buried itself in the wall
above his head.
"What are you trying to do," snapped Dean; "help that damned spy to
escape?"
"He wasn't trying to escape," she angrily retorted.
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