THE YELLOW DOVE
newed. But Doris, whose senses and initiative had slowly returned to her, now crept around the walls of the cave and when von Winden’s outstretched hand came within her reach she seized his forearm in both of her hands and clung to it desperately, keeping the muzzle pointed away from Cyril. She was swayed to and fro with the struggling men, who finally toppled sideways and fell to the floor, dragging her with them, but von Winden’s grasp of the weapon, never quite secure, was loosened and, as they dropped, it went flying under the table.
The fight was soon out of the German, for Hammersley’s weight had fallen on him heavily, and in a moment the officer was flat on his back and Hammersley was sitting on him. Doris, who had meanwhile picked up the pistol, now heard Hammersley gasping jerkily.
“Quick, Doris—something to tie with—your stay-strings!”
She understood and disappeared outside the cavern, returning presently with the bonds, helping Cyril while he made the wrists and ankles of von Winden fast.
“I might have killed you—but I didn’t,” Hammersley was gasping. “You saw that, Udo, didn’t you?”
“You needn’t make apologies. I would have killed you. I tried to. It’s too bad—too bad,” he panted.
“I’m sorry,” Hammersley repeated. “Those papers—they’re England’s, Udo. They’re my property. I’ve got to take them.”
And without further words he put his hand inside the breast of the officer’s coat and took the papers out.
“I wish it were anybody but you,” he said.
“I don’t think you can get away with them.”
“I’m going to try.”
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