st, he found at
length the opening he sought; an instant's opportunity on which all
depended.

Every fiber of his physical being responded; he threw himself forward,
the weight of his body, the force of a culminating impetus, went into
his fist; it hit heavily; full on the point of the chin beneath the
brutal mouth. Tom Rogers' head shot back as if he had received the blow
of a hammer; he threw up his arms; this time he lay where he struck the
ground.

John Steele swayed; with an effort he sustained himself. Was it over?
Still Rogers did not move; Steele stooped, felt his heart; it beat
slowly. Mechanically, as if hardly knowing what he did, John Steele
began to count; "Time!" Rogers continued to lie like a log; his mouth
gaped; the blow, in the parlance of the ring, had been a "knock-out";
or, in this case, a _quid pro quo_. Yes, the last, but without referee
or spectators! The prostrate man did stir now; he groaned; John Steele
touched him with his foot.

"Get up," he said.

The other half-raised himself and regarded the speaker with dazed eyes.
"What for?"

John Steele went to the stand, picked up his revolver, and then sat down
at a table. "You're as foul a fighter as you ever were," he said
contemptuously.

* * * * *

CHAPTER XIX

THE LAST SHIFT

The candle burned low; it threw now on grimy floor and wall the shadows
of the two men, one seated at the table, the other not far from it.
Before John Steele lay paper and ink, procured from some niche. He had
ceased writing; for the moment he leaned back, his vigilant gaze on the
figure near-by. From a corner of the room the rasping sound of a rat,
gnawing, broke the stillness, then suddenly ceased.

"Where were you on the night this woman, Amy Gerard, was found dead?"

A momentary expression of surprise, of alarm, crossed the bruised and
battered face; it was succeeded by an angry suspicion that glowed from
the evil eyes. "You're not trying to fix that job on---"

"You? No."

"Then what did you follow him here for, to pump me? The Yankee that got
transported is--"

"As alive as when he stepped before you in the ring!"

"Alive?" The fellow stared. "Not in England? It was death for him to
come back!"

"Never mind his whereabouts."

The man looked at Steele closer. "Blame, if there isn't something about
you that puzzles me," he said.

"What?" laconically.

The fellow shook his head. "And so he's hired you?"