He let drive with his shoulder and in it went.

The girl's mother was crouching in the far corner of the room, behind a heavy sofa.

The drunken husband stood over her, trying to get at her skull with the piece of lead pipe.
"At the bursting in of the door the brute wheeled and, with an oath, made straight for the priest, the weapon in his fist.
"The priest stepped clear of the door-jamb, moved under the single gas-jet, drew out his crucifix, and held it up.
"The drunkard stood staring.
"The priest advanced step by step.

The brute cowered, staggered back, and fell in a heap on the floor." "Magnificent," broke out Lockwood.

"Superb! And well told.