Almost simultaneously he hurled himself at her, and this time he succeeded in seizing the wrist that held the dagger. Harry Labar was reckoned a strong man, but the woman fought with dynamic, maniacal strength. He felt her body writhe and twist beneath him, and a little ornamental table crashed as she tried to pull herself away. Once she snapped at him with her teeth like some maddened animal. He found a grip for his other hand and pinned her down till her hysterical strength should have waned. Her fingers relaxed and the dagger dropped to the soft carpet. He felt the tension of her resistance dwindle till at length she was a limp figure in his hold. Slowly and cautiously he got to his feet and picked up the dagger.

Not a word had come from either of them during the struggle. Indeed the whole affair had been but a matter of seconds.