he pallor of fear on his face giving away to an expression of
demoniac rage, drew a revolver and aimed it straight at Fleck. Jane, who
unbidden had followed the raiders as they entered and now was standing
wide-eyed in the doorway watching the spectacle, was the only one to see
that just as old Otto pulled the trigger his nephew, whether by accident
or design, she could not tell, jostled his arm, sending the bullet wide
of its mark.

"Come on, men," cried Fleck, advancing boldly into the room.

Eight of the Germans, piteously bleating "Kamerad" stood against the
wall near the door, their hands stretched high above their heads.

"Guard these men, Dean," cried Fleck, as with Carter close at his side
he dashed into the fray.

One man already lay senseless outside, eight had surrendered. Four had
fled to the front of the house. That left only the two Hoffs and one
other man against five of them. It was Fleck's intention to try to
overpower the trio before the four who had fled returned to aid them.
Jane, amazed at her own coolness, stood beside Dean, her revolver out,
helping him guard the prisoners.

Frederic all the while had been standing by his uncle's side, strangely
enough appearing to take little interest or part in the battle. Old
Otto, though, despite his years, was fighting with vigor enough to
require both the work of Fleck and Carter to subdue him. Vainly he
struggled to wrench himself free from their grasp and use his revolver
again. Fleck's strength pulling loose his fingers from the weapon was
too much for him. As he felt himself being disarmed, in a frenzy he tore
himself loose from both of them and seizing a chair, swung it with all
his strength against the hanging lamp above the table that supplied the
only light in the room.

In an instant the room was in darkness. The four from the front, rushing
back to aid their comrades in answer to old Otto's cries, found
themselves unable to distinguish friend from foe. Fleck's men dared not
use their weapons in the darkness. Back and forth through the room the
opposing forces struggled, the air thick with cries and muttered oaths,
the sound of blows making strange medley with the rapid shuffling
of feet.

Jane, remembering the electric torch that had been carried by the man
Carter had struck down, felt her way to the door and retrieved it from
his senseless fingers. Returning, she flashed it about the room,
endeavoring to assist Fleck by its light. As she l