What I want to know is--where are these two?"
"Would you believe me if I said I did not know?"
"No, Lacy. It has come down to the truth, or your life. Where is
Pasqual Mendez?"
He heard no warning, no sound of movement, yet some change in the
expression of the man's eyes confronting him caused him to slightly
turn his head so as to vaguely perceive a shadow behind. It was all
so quickly, silently done, he barely had time to throw up one hand in
defence, when his arms were gripped as though in a vise, and he was
thrown backward to the floor, the chair crushed beneath his weight.
Lacy fairly leaped on his prostrate body, forgetting his gun lying on
the desk in the violence of hate, his hands clutching at the exposed
throat. For an instant Westcott was so dazed and stunned by this
sudden attack from behind as to lie there prone and helpless, fairly
crushed beneath the bodies of his two antagonists.
It was this that gave him his chance, for, convinced that he was
unconscious, both men slightly relaxed their grip, thus giving him
opportunity to regain breath, and stiffen his muscles for a supreme
effort.
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