I was a prisoner in the terrible fortress whence no single person save
the guards had ever been known to emerge--the Bastille of "The Strangler
of Finland!"
I saw I was lost.
The muzzle of the sentry's carbine was within two feet of my chest.
"Speak!" cried the fellow. "Who are you?"
At a glance I took in the peril of the situation, and without a second's
hesitation made a dive for the man beneath his weapon. He lowered it,
but it was too late, for I gripped him around the waist, rendering his
gun useless. It was the work of an instant, for I knew that to close
with him was my only chance.
Yet if the boat was not in waiting below that closed door? If my Finn
driver was not there in readiness, then I was lost. The unfortunate girl
whom I was there to rescue drew back in fright against the wall for a
single second, then, seeing that I had closed with the hulking fellow,
she sprang forward, and with both hands seized the gun and attempted to
wrest it from him. His fingers had lost the trigger, and he was trying
to regain it to fire and so raise the alarm.
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