He came to the rescue--came out of the very skies--and all but killed Serpice!" "Cleek!" Fifty shrill voices joined Margot's in that screaming cry; fifty more dirks flashed into view.

"Cleek in France?
Cleek?
Where is he?
Which way did he go?
Where's the narker--where--where ?" "Here, if anywhere!" "Here ?" "Yes--unless you've been fooled, and let him get away.

He knows about the paper, and is after it, Margot; and if anyone has come up from the sewers within the past twenty minutes--" They knew--they grasped the situation instantly--and a roar of excited voices yelled out: "Clodoche! Clodoche! Clodoche!" as, snarling and howling like a pack of wolves, they bore down with a rush on the blue-bloused figure that was creeping towards the door.
But as they sprang it sprang also! It was neck or nothing now.

Cleek realised it, and, throwing himself headlong over the bar, clutched frantically at the lever which he knew controlled the flow of gas, jammed it down with all his strength, shut off the light, and, grabbing up a chair, sent it crashing through the window.
The crowd surged on towards the wrecked bar with a yell, surged from all directions, and then abruptly stopped and huddled together in one.
For the sudden flashing down of the darkness within, had made more prominent, the moon-lighted passage without; and there, scuttling away in alarm from this sudden uproar, and the outward flying of that hurled chair, a figure which but a moment before had come skulking to the window, could now be seen.
"There he goes--there! there!" shrilled out a chorus of excited voices, as the yellow-bearded, blue-bloused figure came into view.

"After him! Catch him! Knife him!" In an instant they were at the door, tumbling out into the darkness, pouring up the passage in hot pursuit.