His theory
was a sound one; he argued that the natural and proper place for such a
switch in such a room would be immediately inside the door, so that one
entering could ignite the lamp without having to grope in the darkness.
He was encouraged, furthermore, by the fact that at a point some four
feet to the left of this switch there was a gap in the bookcases,
running from floor to ceiling; a gap no more than four inches across.
Having removed every book from its position, save three, which occupied
a shelf on a level with his shoulder and adjoining the gap, he desisted
wearily, for many of the volumes were weighty, and the heat of the room
was almost insufferable. He dropped with a sigh upon a silk ottoman
close beside him....
A short, staccato, muffled report split the heavy silence... and a
little round hole appeared in the woodwork of the book-shelf before
which, an instant earlier, M. Max had been standing--in the woodwork of
that shelf, which had been upon a level with his head.
In one giant leap he hurled himself across the room--... as a second
bullet pierced the yellow silk of the ottoman.
Close under the trap he crouched, staring up, fearful-eyed....
A yellow hand and arm--a hand and arm of great nervous strength and of
the hue of old ivory, directed a pistol through the opening above him.
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