I saw him plainly. It was Gordon
Orme!
The light disappeared. There was no cry from above. The great house,
lying dark and silent, heard no alarm. I did not stop to reason about
this, but tightened my grip upon him in so fell a fashion that all his
arts in wrestling could avail him nothing. I had caught him from behind,
and now I held him with a hand on each of his arms above the elbow. No
man could escape me when I had that hold.
He did not speak, but struggled silently with all his power. At length
he relaxed a trifle. I stood close to him, slipped my left arm under his
left along his back, and caught his right arm in my left hand. Then I
took from his pocket a pistol, which I put into my own. I felt in his
clothing, and finally discovered a knife, hidden in a scabbard at the
back of his neck. I drew it out--a long-bladed, ivory thing I found it
later, with gold let into the hilt and woven into the steel.
He eased himself in my grip as much as he could, waiting; as I knew,
for his chance to twist and grapple with me. I could feel him breathing
deeply and easily, resting, waiting for his time, using his brains to
aid his body with perfect deliberation.
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