It was not encouraging. Evidently he was upon the
third floor, at the rear of the building, looking down into a cluttered
up back yard. His eyes could scarcely distinguish what was below, as the
only glimmer of light came from a far distant street lamp at the end of
an alley, the faint rays creeping in through holes in the fence. Yet one
black shadow seemed to promise the sloping roof of a shed directly below;
but even with that to break his fall, it was a desperate leap.
He stared into those uncertain depths, endeavouring to measure the
distance, deceived by the shifting shadows, afraid of what lay hidden
below. For the moment he forgot all that was behind him, his whole mind
concentrated on the perils of so mad a leap into the dark. The awakening
came suddenly, the chair jerked from beneath his feet, his body hurled
backward. He fell, gripping at the window seat, so that he was flung
against the support of a side wall, able to retain his feet, but not to
wholly ward off a vicious blow, which left him staggering. Half blinded,
West leaped forward to grapple with the assailant, but was too late.
Hobart rushed back out of reach of his arms, and rapped sharply on the
door panel. It opened instantly, and big Mike, closely followed by
another man, pushed forward into the room. West was trapped, helpless;
one man pitted against three. He backed slowly away, brushing tack the
dishevelled hair from his eyes, watching them warily, every animal
instinct on the alert.
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