The floor answered under the step and rush. Rare athletes, these two;
big men who were light on their feet. Kitty could see their faces
occasionally and the flash of their bare hands, but of their bodies
little or nothing. Nor could she tell how the struggle was going. Indeed
until the idea came that they might be trampling Johnny Two-Hawks there
was no coherent thought in her head, only broken things.
She ran to the soapbox and kicked it aside. She saw Hawksley on his
face, motionless. At least they should not trample his dead body. She
caught hold of his arms and dragged him to the wall--to discover that
she was sobbing, sobs of rage and despair that tore at her breast
horribly and clogged her throat. She was a woman and could not help; she
could not help Cutty! She was a woman, and all she could do was to drag
aside the lifeless body of the man who had given Cutty his chance!
She knelt, turning Hawksley over on his back. There was a slight gash
on one grimy cheek, possibly caused by contact with the latchets of
Karlov's boots. She raised the handsome head, pressed it to her bosom,
and began to sway her body from side to side. Tumult. The Federal
agents were throwing their bodies against the door repeatedly. In the
semi-darkness Cutty fought for his life. But Kitty neither heard nor
saw. The world had suddenly contracted; there was only this beautiful
head in her arms; beyond and about, nothing.
Cutty felt his strength ebbing; soon he would not be able to wrench
himself loose from those terrible arms. He knew all the phases of the
fighting game. Chivalry and fair play had no part in this contest. Clear
light, to observe what his blows were accomplishing; a minute or two of
clear light! Half the time his blows glanced. The next time those arms
wound about him, that would be the end. He was growing tired, winded; he
had not gone into battle fresh. He knew that many of his blows had gone
home. Any ordinary man would have dropped; but Karlov came on again and
again.
And all the while Karlov was not fighting Cutty; he was endeavouring
to remove him. He was an obstacle. What Karlov wanted was that head
the girl was holding in her arms; to grind his heel into it. Had Cutty
stepped aside Karlov would have rushed for the other man.
"Kitty, the door, the door!" Cutty shouted in despair, taking a terrible
kick on the thigh. "The door!"
Kitty did not stir.