d him and secure a firm grip on his assailant's trousers.
Then he threw himself sideways and back as much as possible. They both
fell, and Donaldson in the scramble got to his side and shifted one arm
higher up. The fall, too, loosened the man's strangle hold though he
still remained on top. Donaldson then fought to throw him off, but the
fellow clung so close to his body that he was unable to secure a
purchase.

The fight now settled down to a trial of strength and endurance between
them. He strained his free arm as though to crush in this demon's
ribs. He kicked out with his feet and knees; he dug his head into the
fellow's chest. The latter clung without cry or word like a living
nightmare. His hand was creeping towards Donaldson's throat again. He
felt it stealing up inch by inch and was powerless to check it. He
rolled and tumbled and pushed. Then his head came down sharply on a
beam and he lost consciousness.

In the meanwhile Miss Arsdale had waited at the front door, her ears to
the panels. For a few moments she heard Donaldson's footsteps moving
about the house, but soon the walls swallowed him up completely. She
ran back a little and strained her eyes towards the upper windows.
They were darkened with shades. She felt a keen sense of
responsibility for not having told him, from the start, of what a demon
Arsdale became when cornered in this condition. She had half concealed
the fact because of shame and because--she shuddered back from the mere
thought of another possibility so terrible that she could not yet even
admit it to herself. She comforted herself with the memory that at the
last moment she had feebly warned. But twice before she had refused to
admit to him the worst.

She waited as long as she was able to endure the strain and then
skirted the house to the rear. The kitchen door was wide open. She
pushed forward into the middle of the house, calling his name.
Receiving no response, she mounted the stairs to the second floor. She
glanced into each room. In the farther one an article on the floor,
which had escaped Donaldson's notice, riveted her eyes. It was an
empty pocket-book. It was neither her own nor Arsdale's. Instead of
finding relief in this, it drove her back trembling against the wall.
Then with swift resolution she gathered herself together, picked up the
wallet and hid it in her waist. As she did so, she turned as though
fearful that some one might be observing