point merely shore the white coat from neck to waist.

There was no scope to strike again. And the assailant
contented himself with passing his free arm garrotingly around
Standish's neck, from behind, and leaping upward, bringing his
knees into the small of the victim's back.

Here evidently was no amateur slayer. For, even as the
knife-thrust missed its mark, he had resorted to the second
ruse, and before Standish could turn around far enough to
avert it.

Down went the big man, under the strangle-hold and knee-purchase.
With a crash that knocked the breath out of him and dazed him, he
landed on his back, his head smiting the sward with a resounding
thwack.

His adversary, once more, wasted not a jot of time. As
Standish struck ground, the man was upon him, knife again
aloft, poised above the helpless Milo's throat.

And it was then that Gavin Brice's flying feet brought him to
the scene.

As he ran he had heard a door open. And he knew his warning
shout had reached the ears of some one in the house,--perhaps
of Claire. But he had no time nor thought for anything, just
then, except the stark need of reaching Milo Standish before
the knife could strike.