Prisoners of Chance - Page 221/233

"By God! you foul fiend of hell!" he screamed madly. "I 'll fight for it; fight like a gentleman of France!"

I leaped to my feet, Cairnes beside me. Desperate as the chance was, we would be with him on that floor, with him smiting to the death. Yet even as he poised for the leap downward the woman's scarlet arms struck, and he went over like a stone, crashing into a huddled heap on the rock floor. Naladi laughed, leaning far out to look down, like a gloating devil.

"Fight, you poor fool!" she exclaimed in French. "Sacre! who struck hardest?"

Sick, trembling like a frightened child, I dragged the dazed Puritan down again, crouching behind the stones.