a neat
sense of distance to catch an invisible man round the throat when he and
everything else tangible and real is hidden under cover of Stygian
darkness; but this time I made the snatch of my life, and as luck would
have it, had him by the windpipe before he realised that there was
anyone within a quarter of a mile of him. I didn't give him a chance to
cry out--I had no idea how close his friends were, if he had any--but
just threw all my weight into my clutching hands and quietly but
inexorably choked the life out of him. In the struggle his hat fell off
and I released one hand and ran it through his hair. Up till then there
was a lingering suspicion at the back of my mind, that after all I might
have throttled Cumshaw by mistake, but the feel of that straight hair
completely burked the last of my doubts. There was no possible chance of
mistaking Cumshaw's curly crop for the strands I held in my free hand,
for he suddenly went limp under my hands, and when I fumbled for his
heart I could not feel it beating. At the time I felt rather cut up, and
considered that I had practically killed the man in cold blood; but
afterwards, when I came to reckon up the tally of disaster, I was sorry
that I had passed him out so peacefully. There were a lot of other
methods I might have used had I known in time. But then I didn't, and
that makes all the difference.

Satisfied in my own mind that the stranger was out of action for good
and all, I rose to my feet and threaded my way back to where I had left
my pack. I slipped the strings over my shoulders and set off again in
the direction I hoped to find Moira and my companion. But scarcely had I
taken a dozen steps forward when the silence of the night was shattered
by the report of a revolver, and in an instant a perfect fusillade had
begun. I dropped all caution at that. Throwing the pack from off my
shoulders, I drew my revolver as I ran. I simply tore across the
intervening space like a red god of vengeance suddenly descended on a
planet of sin. The sound of the shots had maddened me beyond all belief,
and in my then mood I would have walked single-handed into a whole army.
Luckily for myself I had not gone far before I collided with a wattle
bush, and the scratches I received brought me back to a saner frame of
mind. I saw with an appalling clarity of vision that I was taking the
worst possible course. Cumshaw and Moira were being attacked--that was
beyond question--and my game