he sight of the ivory ball the stranger quickly arose from his
kneeling posture and fixed upon our hero a gaze the most extraordinary
that he had ever encountered. His eyes dilated like those of a cat,
the breath expelled itself from his bosom in so deep and profound an
expiration that it appeared as though it might never return again. Nor
was it until Jonathan had replaced the ball in his pocket that he
appeared to awaken from the trance that the sight of the object had
sent him into. But no sooner had the cause of this strange demeanor
disappeared into our hero's breeches-pocket than he arose as with an
electric shock. In an instant he became transformed as by the touch of
magic. A sudden and baleful light flamed into his eyes, his face grew
as red as blood, and he clapped his hand to his pocket with a sudden
and violent motion. "Ze ball!" he cried, in a hoarse and strident
voice. "Ze ball! Give me ze ball!" And upon the next instant our
hero beheld the round and shining nozzle of a pistol pointed directly
against his forehead.

For a moment he stood as though transfixed; then in the mortal peril
that faced him, he uttered a roar that sounded in his own ears like the
outcry of a wild beast, and thereupon flung himself bodily upon the
other with the violence and the fury of a madman.

The stranger drew the trigger, and the powder flashed in the pan. He
dropped the weapon, clattering, and in an instant tried to draw another
from his other pocket. Before he could direct his aim, however, our
hero had caught him by both wrists, and, bending his hand backward,
prevented the chance of any shot from taking immediate effect upon his
person. Then followed a struggle of extraordinary ferocity and
frenzy--the stranger endeavoring to free his hand, and Jonathan
striving with all the energy of despair to prevent him from effecting
his murderous purpose.

In the struggle our hero became thrust against the edge of the table.
He felt as though his back were breaking, and became conscious that in
such a situation he could hope to defend himself only a few moments
longer. The stranger's face was pressed close to his own. His hot
breath, strong with the odor of garlic, fanned our hero's cheek, while
his lips, distended into a ferocious and ferine grin, displayed his
sharp teeth shining in the candlelight.

"Give me ze ball!" he said, in a harsh and furious whisper.

At the moment there rang in Jonathan's ears the sudde