Like an arrow sped from the bowstring, it had to fulfill its destiny.

It never occurred to him to take to his heels, to get space between himself and this enemy he had so woefully underestimated.

Ten feet, and he might have been able to whirl, draw his pistol, and end the affair.
The coup de grace came suddenly: a blow that caught Quasimodo full on the point of the jaw.

He sagged and went sprawling upon his face.

The victor turned him over and raised a heel....