She asked herself, vaguely, if all the rest of her life was to be made up of this brawling and fighting in unlighted chambers of horror; if, now that they were in the more turgid currents for which they had longed, there were to come no moments of peace amid all their tumult and struggling.
Then she drew in her breath with a little gasp, for she saw Pobloff, with a quick writhe of his thin body, free his imprisoned right arm, and strike with the metal butt of his revolver.
He struck twice, three times, and the sound of the metal on the unprotected head was sickening to the listening woman.

She staggered to the closet door as the man fell to the floor, stunned.
"Jim! Oh, Jim, quick!--he's killing him!--I tell you he's killing him!" Durkin said "'Ssssh!" under his breath, and waited.
For in the dim half-light they could see that the Russian had ripped open Keenan's coat and vest, and from a double-buttoned pocket on the inside of the inner garment was drawing out a yellow manila envelope, the fellow to that which had already been thrust into his hands.

It was then that Durkin sprang forward.
Pobloff saw him advance.

He had only time to reverse his hold on the little gun-metal revolver and fire two shots.
The first shot went wide, tearing deep into the plastered wall.

The second cut through the flap of his assailant's coat-pocket, just over the left hip, scattering little flecks of woollen cloth about.