His advantage was only momentary; for in a minute
Craig flung himself upon him. But the old man's blood was up. In his young
days he had been a powerful wrestler; and even now the robber found him no
easy conquest, for he said, in a husky tone: 'This won't do, Bill. Drop
the girl and come here. This blasted old fool will keep us all night.'

Instead of obeying him, Jones stole to the head of the stairs and
listened. In an instant he sprang back.

'We must be off, Tim! Some one is coming. Quick! Let loose the man.'

But there were two to that bargain; for Harson had heard the words as well
as the robber, and he held him with a grip like a vice.

'Let go your hold and we'll be off,' said Craig, in a husky voice.

'Never! You shall taste what you are so ready to give!' said Harson,
fiercely.

'Bill, there's no time to lose!' exclaimed Craig, in a stern tone. 'Shoot
him, and have done with it! There, now; I'll hold him.'

The report of a pistol followed; but as it did so, a deep groan came from
Craig. 'You've done for me, Bill. The old fellow dodged. Run! run!--my
rope's out.'

'Can't I help you, Tim?' exclaimed Jones.

'No, no; go! Get off; I'll not blow on you.'

Thus adjured, the robber paused no longer. But escape was now no easy
matter; for at the door he was saluted by a loud voice:

'Hallo! Harry; is this you?'

'No, no, a thief! Grab him, Frank!'

The next instant Jones was in the grip of a powerful man, but he was a
giant himself, and desperate. He flung himself with all his force upon his
adversary, and both went to the floor together; Jones' hand on the other's
throat.

There is something fearful in the grapple of a desperate man, even when
feeble in frame; and in the case of Jones, who knew that every thing
depended on his efforts, and whose fierce spirit was backed by muscles of
iron, the conflict was one of such fury that the very walls of the old
house shook. From step to step, from the landing to the hall, they fought;
tugging and tearing at each other like two dogs, while Harry Harson in
vain hung about them; the darkness and the rapidity of their motions
preventing him from distinguishing friend from foe.

'By G-d! he's an ox for strength,' at last said Frank; 'if you'd do any
thing, Harry, go to the door and sing out for the watch. I'll hold him.'

It might be that in order to utter these words the Doctor relaxed his
grip, or it might be that the knowledge of the increased risk that he