By its weird beam I saw that Miss Falconer was close beside me. Good
heavens! Why, I though in anguish, wasn't she already upstairs? But I
knew only too well; she wouldn't desert her champion. It was probably
too late now. Blenheim, much congested as to countenance, seemed on the
point of springing; his battered aids were struggling up in menacing,
if unsteady, fashion; and Mr. Schwartzmann, at length provided with the
light he wanted, was aiming at me with ominous deliberation from his
coign of vantage above.
However, we were at the circular staircase. Again I caught up the table
and held it before us as a shield while we climbed upward, side by side.
In the distance my friend Schwartzmann was hopefully potting at us. A
bullet, with a sharp ping, embedded itself in the thick wood in harmless
fashion; another struck the shaft beside me, splintering its stone.
We were at the last turn--but our pursuers were climbing also. I bent
forward and let them have the table, hurling it with all possible force.
As it catapulted down upon them it knocked Blenheim off his balance,
and he in his unforeseen descent swept the others from their feet.
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