A miss was impossible. Hal had made up his mind that he would trifle with
his opponent no longer. He realized fully that his own life depended upon
his getting the upper hand and that it was no time to be squeamish.
Accordingly, when the opportunity presented itself, he fired pointblank
in his opponent's face. The latter threw up his hands, gave out a single
loud scream of pain, and toppled backward to the floor in a heap.
Hal bent over him. "Dead," he said simply. "Now to get out of this."
He left the house and made his way with all speed toward the Hotel de
Ville. But he had not gone a block when he beheld, in a little store he
was passing, a scene of confusion. The lad stopped and peered in. He made
out Chester's figure and, instantly realizing his danger, dashed forward.
He arrived just in time to catch an uplifted arm that would have crushed
Chester's head with a heavy wrench.
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE DEATH OF DUVAL.
"What's going on here?" cried Hal angrily, as he twisted sharply on the
upraised arm.
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