At the same moment his eye turned toward the bed. It was exactly
opposite the door--it was straight in the line of fire! Sir Joseph' s
life (as Turlington had deliberately calculated) was actually in greater
danger than Launce's life. He tore himself free, rushed to the bed, and
took the old man in his arms to lift him out.
"Three!"
The crash of the report sounded. The bullet came through the door,
grazed Launce's left arm, and buried itself in the pillow, at the very
place on which Sir Joseph's head had rested the moment before. Launce
had saved his father-in-law's life. Turlington had fired his first shot
for the money, and had not got it yet.
They were safe in the corner of the room, on the same side as the
door--Sir Joseph, helpless as a child, in Launce's arms; the women
pale, but admirably calm. They were safe for the moment, when the second
bullet (fired at an angle) tore its way through the wall on their right
hand.
"I hear you," cried the voice of the miscreant on the other side of the
door. "I'll have you yet--through the wall.
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