With a leap forward, the battle-fury on him, Westcott closed before the other could regain position.

Again the clenched fist struck and the fellow went down in the darkness, whirling backward to the earth--and lay there, motionless.
An instant, panting, breathless, scarcely yet comprehending what had occurred, the victor stared at the huddled figure, his arm drawn back.
Then he became aware of excitement within, the sound of voices, the tramp of feet on the floor, the sudden opening of a door.

A gleam of light shot out, revealing the figures of men.

With one spring he was across the shapeless form on the ground, and had vanished into the darkness beyond.
Lacy was first to reach the unconscious body, stumbling over it in the black shadow, as he rushed forward, revolver in hand.

He cursed, rising to his knees, and staring about in the silent darkness.
"There's a man lying here--dead likely.