‘Charles Archer, I arrest you in the king’s name.’

The last word was lost in the stunning report of a pistol, and the foremost man fell with a groan.  A second pistol already gleamed in Dangerfield’s hand, and missed.  With a spring like a tiger he struck the hesitating constable in the throat, laying his scalp open against the door-frame, and stamping on his face as he fell; and clutching the third by the cravat, he struck at his breast with a knife, already in his hand.  But a pistol-shot from Lowe struck his right arm, scorching the cloth; the dagger and the limb dropped, and he staggered back, but recovered his equilibrium, and confronted them with a white skull-like grin, and a low ‘ha, ha, ha!’

It was all over, and the silver spectacles lay shattered on the floor, like a broken talisman, and a pair of gray, strangely-set, wild eyes glared upon them.

The suddenness of his assault, his disproportioned physical strength and terrific pluck, for a second or two, confounded his adversaries; but he was giddy—­his right arm dead by his side.  He sat down in a chair confronting them, his empty right hand depending near to the floor, and a thin stream of blood already trickling down his knuckles, his face smiling, and shining whitely with the damp of anguish, and the cold low ‘ha, ha, ha!’ mocking the reality of the scene.

‘Heinous old villain!’ said Lowe, advancing on him.

’Well, gentlemen, I’ve shown fight, eh?—­and now I suppose you want my watch, and money, and keys—­eh?’

‘Read the warrant, Sir,’ said Lowe, sternly.

’Warrant! hey—­warrant?—­why, this is something new—­will you be so good as to give me a glass of water—­thank you—­hold the paper a moment longer—­I can’t get this arm up.’  With his left hand he set down the tumbler-glass, and then held up the warrant.

‘Thank ye.  Well, this warrant’s for Charles Archer.’

‘Alias Paul Dangerfield—­if you read, Sir.’

’Thank you—­yes—­I see—­that’s news to me.  Oh!  Mr. Lowe—­I did not see you—­I haven’t hurt you, I hope?  Why the plague do you come at these robbing hours?  We’d have all fared better had you come by daylight.’

Lowe did not take the trouble to answer him.

’I believe you’ve killed that constable in the exercise of his duty, Sir; the man’s dead,’ said Lowe, sternly.

‘Another gloss on my text; why invade me like housebreakers?’ said Dangerfield with a grim scoff.

‘No violence, Sirrah, on your peril—­the prisoner’s wounded,’ said Lowe, catching the other fellow by the collar and thrusting him back:  he had gathered himself up giddily, and swore he’d have the scoundrel’s life.

’Well, gentlemen, you have made a false arrest, and shot me while defending my person—­you—­four to one!—­and caused the death of your accomplice; what more do you want?’

’You must accompany us to the county gaol, Sir; where I’ll hand in your committal.’