The Black Mask — page 76: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

v. ay on ah ? ne Lil’ F Wane ie ; si A ef i Le asa rope ny a a vt The Half-Asleep Girl Jim met his leap squarely, and shortly both were on him. There was a crash, a great tangle of flashing arms and legs on the floor, the sound of blows, and at intervals above it all the awakened paralytic’s voice calling to Lola. . Knibbs was putting up the fight of his life. And the fact that glorified his efforts was that he was not fighting for himself alone. It wasn’t only that he defended himself against kidnapping or resisted being trussed again on that cot. It was something bigger and finer. Substantially, he was fighting for the woman he loved. But it was a losing fight. Belden, being a bred-in-the-bone pug, and lean Jim having been thoroughly educated in toughness—an education incomplete without a working knowledge of the fistic art—Knibbs’ chances were on the short end. Already his nose was bleed- ing and his chin gashed. Then they piled upon him as in a football game, crushing out his breath; and he felt his surroundings slipping away, when the unexpected happened. To Fleming Metcalf Knibbs, prone on the hall floor with the two ex-circus men belaboring him, the events which transpired now appeared more than ever dream-like. The rickety front door was thrust inward and an ava- lanche of rushing footsteps came to his ears. The pressure on his throat and chest was suddenly relieved, and as he moved his head weakly he saw Simeon Dreer, of the murder squad, looking down at him through his ridiculously large green spectacles, while all around swarmed blue-coated and brass-but- toned forms. “Hoo-ray!” cheered Knibbs weakly, staring back at Dreer with a silly smile. He felt that he ought to get up and welcome his rescuers, but for the life of him he couldn’t move a muscle. At an order from Dreer, an officer got him under the arms; and then he found himself standing on shaking, un- certain legs, one hand on the balustrade post, the other moving across his fore- head. Slowly his faculties revived. Out of the little room came Officer Yensen, holding Lola tightly by the arm. Knibbs saw red. “Release that lady,” he bellowed, or tried to bellow, for he was still too weak to achieve the real thing. Yensen looked uncertainly first at Knibbs then at Simeon Dreer. Simeon smiled tolerantly. “Do as the gentleman requests, Yensen,”’ he said. It was done; whereat those remain- ing in the hall proceeded to the rear room where the discomfited ruffians and their leader were under guard. “A charming gathering,” commented reer. “At what houras tea Serveda. _ “Sir, your sarcasm is anything but appropriate,” said the paralytic from among his pillows, pretending righteous indignation, though his face was livid with wrath. “By what right do you force your way into my home—at this very moment a house of death?” Dreer maintained his nonchalance. “Tf it were not a hotise of death I should not be here,” he replied, “though it appears fortunate for Mr. Knibbs that I happened along when I did. How- ever, his rescue was incidental and sec- ondary. I have come after the mur- derer of John Ulrich!” “The murderer of Ulrich! you. mean?” . “My English is clear, I believe. I’m sure you understand me, De Brunner. If not, I shall be more harshly explicit. There’s an ambulance waiting outside to take you away. There’s a police pa- trol, too; and I might add, if I may be so indelicate, that were you not bed- ridden, you’d ride in the latter.” “You charge me—” What do * ie () micbooks,.com