Still kneeling upon the floor he bent
forward and threw all his weight and strength upon some lever
with the result that there came a long, whirling, grinding noise,
ending once more in a powerful click. He straightened himself
then, and I saw that what he held in his hand was a sort of gun,
with a curiously misshapen butt. He opened it at the breech, put
something in, and snapped the breech-lock. Then, crouching
down, he rested the end of the barrel upon the ledge of the open
window, and I saw his long moustache droop over the stock and
his eye gleam as it peered along the sights. I heard a little sigh of
satisfaction as he cuddled the butt into his shoulder, and saw that
amazing target, the black man on the yellow ground, standing
clear at the end of his foresight. For an instant he was rigid and
motionless. Then his finger tightened on the trigger. There was a
strange, loud whiz and a long, silvery tinkle of broken glass. At
that instant Holmes sprang like a tiger on to the marksman's
back, and hurled him flat upon his face. He was up again in a
moment, and with convulsive strength he seized Holmes by the
throat, but I struck him on the head with the butt of my revolver,
and he dropped again upon the floor.
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