keen-bladed knife he slashed viciously at the Sub's chest. Springing backwards Webb avoided what would otherwise have been a fatal blow. As it was, the sharp steel ripped his coat from lapel to waist, while so much energy had Georgeos put into the blow that his arm swung outwards behind him. The Sub was quick to counter. Throwing himself upon the ground, he gripped his antagonist by the ankles. With a crash the fellow measured his length on his back, while Webb, following up the attack, seized him by the throat. Over and over the two rolled, Hymettus striking blindly with his knife, while Tom, shifting one hand, strove to pin the spy's right arm to his side and render him incapable of dealing further dangerous, but fortunately ineffectual, blows. By this time Osborne had regained his feet, and was awaiting an opportunity of coming to his chum's assistance. It was no easy matter, for in the starlight it was hard to distinguish betwixt friend and foe as they writhed and rolled in a close embrace. The glint of steel prompted Osborne to take the risk. At any chance moment a thrust might bury the weapon in Webb's body. Both combatants were obviously becoming exhausted. Their quick breaths sounded like those of a pair of dogs spent after running a long distance, while, in addition, the Greek was snarling like a wild beast. Grasping a favourable moment, Osborne took a flying kick at the knife as for a brief instant it paused in mid-air. The weapon flew a dozen yards, the bright blade twirling and scintillating in the dim light ere it vanished from sight in the soft sand. With the loss of the weapon the Greek ceased to offer resistance. Upon that knife he had relied to win clear; it was the mainstay of his defence. "What you was do?" he whined in broken English, for he had already recognized his assailants. "Me harmless Spanish caballero." "We'll see about that," retorted Osborne. "The question is: are you coming quietly or are you not?" "Where?" asked the spy. "To Gibraltar." "What for ze reason?"
Prev.
Back
Top