r-frame, and stamping on his face as he fell; and clutching the third
by the cravat, he struck at his breast with a knife, already in his
hand. But a pistol-shot from Lowe struck his right arm, scorching the
cloth; the dagger and the limb dropped, and he staggered back, but
recovered his equilibrium, and confronted them with a white skull-like
grin, and a low 'ha, ha, ha!'

It was all over, and the silver spectacles lay shattered on the floor,
like a broken talisman, and a pair of gray, strangely-set, wild eyes
glared upon them.

The suddenness of his assault, his disproportioned physical strength and
terrific pluck, for a second or two, confounded his adversaries; but he
was giddy--his right arm dead by his side. He sat down in a chair
confronting them, his empty right hand depending near to the floor, and
a thin stream of blood already trickling down his knuckles, his face
smiling, and shining whitely with the damp of anguish, and the cold low
'ha, ha, ha!' mocking the reality of the scene.

'Heinous old villain!' said Lowe, advancing on him.

'Well, gentlemen, I've shown fight, eh?--and now I suppose you want my
watch, and money, and keys--eh?'

'Read the warrant, Sir,' said Lowe, sternly.

'Warrant! hey--warrant?--why, this is something new--will you be so good
as to give me a glass of water--thank you--hold the paper a moment
longer--I can't get this arm up.' With his left hand he set down the
tumbler-glass, and then held up the warrant.

'Thank ye. Well, this warrant's for Charles Archer.'

'_Alias_ Paul Dangerfield--if you read, Sir.'

'Thank you--yes--I see--that's news to me. Oh! Mr. Lowe--I did not see
_you_--I haven't hurt you, I hope? Why the plague do you come at these
robbing hours? We'd have all fared better had you come by daylight.'

Lowe did not take the trouble to answer him.

'I believe you've _killed_ that constable in the exercise of his duty,
Sir; the man's dead,' said Lowe, sternly.

'Another gloss on my text; why invade me like housebreakers?' said
Dangerfield with a grim scoff.

'No violence, Sirrah, on your peril--the prisoner's wounded,' said Lowe,
catching the other fellow by the collar and thrusting him back: he had
gathered himself up giddily, and swore he'd have the scoundrel's life.

'Well, gentlemen, you have made a _false_ arrest, and shot me while
defending my person--_you_--four to one!--and caused the death of your
accomplice; what more do you want?'

'You must acc