e deep boom of a bell.

"The drawbridge!" cried Marishka.

"Ah!" came from Goritz's throat as with an incredibly swift movement he
smothered the candle. Renwick fired twice and then threw Marishka to one
side, but there was a crash of the door in the wainscoting, and then
silence.

"He has gone!" cried Marishka somewhere in the darkness.

"Wait!" shouted Renwick. Some instinct warned him of the trick, and he
sprang aside just as Goritz darted at the spot where he had been. He
felt the rush of the man's body and turned, but did not dare to fire,
for fear of hitting Marishka, so he ran forward toward the window and
presently they met, body to body, clutching in primitive combat. The
man's hand went at his throat, but he wrenched it away again--again. His
arms went around the waist of his adversary low down, in the attempt to
raise him and bear him to the ground. Goritz was now striking furiously
at his head, and by this token Renwick knew that the man was unarmed.
Renwick's furious rush brought them with a thud against the wall, where
they fell, oversetting a table to the floor. Amid the broken furniture
they struggled, in the pitch blackness, with their bare hands, for
Renwick's weapon had been knocked from his fingers. In the rebound from
the wall Renwick fell beneath, Goritz with one hand upon his throat with
a grip which was slowly tightening, but Renwick managed to tear it away
and release himself, striking furiously at the man's face. Goritz was
young and strong, and Renwick's struggle up the cliff had taken away
some of his staying power, but he fought on blindly in the darkness;
grimly, like the bulldog that holds and ever tightens his jaws, no
matter what the punishment he suffers. The bulldog against the wolf.
Goritz was agile, and his arms were strong and wiry. He struck and tore,
but Renwick's arms were cracking his ribs, squeezing the breath from his
body. He struggled with an effort to one knee, and in the change of
position managed to get the fingers of one hand around Renwick's throat
again. They rolled over and over upon the floor, first one uppermost and
then the other, but the fingers on the Englishman's throat were strong.
Fires flashed before Renwick's eyes and the blood seemed to be bursting
from his temples.

His grip was relaxing.... He felt his strength going. Then with his
remaining consciousness he was aware of a warm moisture upon one of his
wrists. Blood! Goritz had been struck by one of