had thought, somehow, to find the gas-jets flaring. The atmosphere was hot
and foul with the odor of kerosene, the blackness filled with strange
sounds and mysterious moving shapes. A grunting gasp came to his ears, and
then the silence and the night alike were split by a report, accompanied
by a streak of orange flame shooting ceilingward from the middle of the
room.

Its light, transient as it was, gave him some inkling of the situation.
Unthinkingly he flung himself forward, ready to grapple with that which
first should meet his hands. Something soft and yielding brushed against
his shoulder, and subconsciously, in the auto-hypnosis of his excitement,
he was aware of a man's voice cursing and a woman's cry of triumph
trailing off into a wail of pain.

On the instant he found himself at grips with the marauder. For a moment
both swayed, dazed by the shock of collision. Then Maitland got a footing
on the carpet and put forth his strength; the other gave way, slipped, and
went to his knees. Maitland's hands found his throat, fingers sinking deep
into flesh as he bore the fellow backward. A match flared noiselessly and
the gas blazed overhead. A cry of astonishment choked in his throat as he
recognized his own features duplicated in the face of the man whose throat
he was slowly and relentlessly constricting. Anisty! He had not thought of
him or connected him with the sounds that had thrilled and alarmed him
over the telephone wire coming out of the void and blackness of night.
Indeed, he had hardly thought any coherent thing about the matter. The
ring of the girl's "No!" had startled him, and he had somehow thought,
vaguely, that O'Hagan had surprised her in the flat. But more than
that....

He glanced swiftly aside at the girl standing still beneath the