There was a screeching cry as Duval crashed head foremost through the
window and went tumbling to the street below. He struck head first upon
the hard sidewalk, crushing his skull; while a shower of glass crashed
tinkling about him.
Immediately the crowd below surged about him, striking with weapons of
all kinds at his defenseless body. Some even jumped and trampled upon it.
At this moment, from around a corner came a troop of cavalry, attracted
by the news that the would-be assassin of the President had been
cornered--for news of this kind travels swiftly--and now they rushed to
the body of Duval, as eager to protect him as a moment ago they would
have been to slay him.
The crowd, with growls and shouted threats, drew off.
Upstairs Chester bent over the prostrate form of Hal and gently raised
his chum's head to his knee. Slowly the lad opened his eyes.
"How do you feel, old man?" asked Chester.
Hal passed his hand over his head.
"Somewhat dizzy," he replied, "but where is Duval?"
"Dead, I guess," said Chester, "I tumbled him out the window on
his head.
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