What demoniac spell was it that prevented her from shrieking--"Stop it.
In God's name, father, stop?"
"Never!" said the undaunted old man. "Never, till I have thrown you
headlong down stairs! Liar! Villain!"
With that, Pet saw her father hurl himself, with the ferocity of a
tiger, on Marcus Wilkeson. Such was the suddenness and impetuosity of
the movement, that Marcus was pushed back several feet toward the door,
from the centre of the room, where the most obstinate part of the
struggle had taken place.
But the old man's supremacy was short lived. The younger and stronger
man suddenly stooped, caught the inventor with both hands under the
arms, and thrust him toward the corner occupied by the mysterious
machine. The inventor would have fallen on it, and perhaps have been
instantly killed by contact with some portion of the brass or iron work,
but for the interposition of the screen. This broke his fall. He
scrambled to his feet, full of rage, and foaming at the mouth.
Marcus stepped back, and said, "Now let it cease."
Pet saw her father snatch something that looked like a club, from some
part of the machine.
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