For a moment he held his breath.
Foot by foot, and then almost inch by inch, The Killer crept in.

Ten feet, eight, six--and all that time Miki made no move, never winked an eye.

With a snarl like that of a tiger, Netah came at him.
What happened then was the most marvellous thing that Jacques Le Beau had ever seen.

So swiftly that his eyes could scarcely follow the movement, Miki had passed like a flash under the belly of Netah, and turning then at the end of his trap chain he was at The Killer's throat before Le Beau could have counted ten.

They were down, and The Brute gripped the club in his hand and stared like one fascinated.