Page:Arthur Stringer - The Hand of Peril.djvu/45

 would he cry out. Yet at the moment the revolver was in a perpendicular position, a flash of hope came to him.

It was with that flash of hope that he quickly and deliberately did the unexpected thing. He pulled on the trigger with his own finger.

The sharp bark of the revolver reverberated through the high-walled room as the bullet went splintering into the framework of the skylight overhead. Kestner had hoped it might crash through the panes themselves. He doubted if the sound of a small calibre revolver would carry much beyond the closed apartment.

Yet that unexpected discharge of the fire-arm startled Lambert. The arm still forlornly straining against his relentless upward pressure gained several inches of precious space before the struggle could be renewed. But inch by quavering inch the fire-arm was again forced up.

"Tony," panted Lambert, "give me a hand!"

Kestner was only dimly conscious of the other man sliding up to him.

"Get his jaws apart," was the next command gasped out by Lambert.

Kestner was conscious enough now of gross fingers on his face, bruising his lips, of knuckles rowelling the cheek-flaps against his clenched teeth. And a corroding wave of rage and resentment swept through him, at the ignominy of it all. Then he clenched his jaws still closer together, in the face of that rowelling knuckle, for at that moment a second interruption was taking place.