him; his shirt was crumpled and soiled. But his air of good humor and his
tame acceptance of capture seemed to increase the Servian's caution, and
he backed away toward the inner door with his revolver still pointed at
Armitage's head.

He began calling lustily up the narrow stair-well in Servian, changing in
a moment to German. He made a ludicrous figure, as he held his revolver
at arm's length, craning his neck into the passage, and howling until he
was red in the face. He paused to listen, then renewed his cries, while
Armitage, with his back against the rack of pots, studied the room and
made his plans.

"There is a thief here! I have caught a thief!" yelled the Servian, now
exasperated by the silence above. Then, as he relaxed a moment and turned
to make sure that his revolver still covered Armitage, there was a sudden
sound of steps above and a voice bawled angrily down the stairway:

"Zmai, stop your noise and tell me what's the trouble."

It was the voice of Durand speaking in the Servian dialect; and Zmai
opened his mouth to explain.

As the big fellow roared his reply Armitage snatched from the rack a
heavy iron boiling-pot, swung it high by the bail with both hands and let
it fly with all his might at the Servian's head, upturned in the
earnestness of his bawling. On the instant the revolver roared loudly in
the narrow kitchen and Armitage seized the brass lamp and flung it from
him upon the hearth, where it fell with a great clatter without
exploding.