human
Chance favored me at the last moment, or seemed to do so. After a time Mr. Hazeldine rose, and went once more into the strong-room. Not a moment did I hesitate. Pushing open the door, behind which I had been in hiding, I sprang out into the lighted office, and made a dash for the iron door, but midway on the floor lay a pile of ledgers over which, in my hurry, I stumbled and fell. Before I could recover myself Mr. Hazeldine was upon me, and when I struggled to my feet it was with his clutch at my throat. The instant the light fell on my face he recognized me. 'Richard Varrel!' he exclaimed, as he let go his hold, and fell back a step or two in sheer amazement. A second later I had whipped out my revolver, which, however, was not loaded--but of course he didn't know that. 'Mr. Hazeldine,' I said, 'thanks to you, I'm a desperate man. I want the money in that bag, and, at whatever cost, I'm determined to have it. So, if you value your life----' But at that moment he made a quick stride forward, and knocked the revolver out of my hand, and before I could recover it he had sprung at me with a long-bladed knife, which he snatched off the table, but for what purpose it happened to be there I cannot even guess. His eyes were as the eyes of a madman; never have I seen such an expression on the face of anyone. On the instant I closed with him, and then began a life-and-death struggle, he trying to stab me, and I trying to wrench the knife from his grasp. How it all happened I shall never know, but his foot slipped, and as he fell he dragged me to the ground with him, and all at once I found the knife in my hand. He struggled desperately to recover himself, then--my God!--somehow the knife----