Taken completely by surprise, he did not struggle. I
noticed that he still held in his hands the bars of gold he had
shown to Desiree.
The king regarded us for a second with a scowl, then turned to
her.
She stood erect, with flashing eyes. The king approached; she
held out her hand to him with an indescribable gesture of
dignity.
For a moment he looked at her, then his lips curled in an ugly
snarl, and, dashing her hand aside, he leaped forward in swift
fury and grasped her white throat with his fingers.
There was a strangled scream from Desiree, a frantic cry from
Harry--and the next instant he had torn himself free from my
arms, dropping the bars of gold at my feet.
A single bound and he was across the room; a single blow with his
fist and the king of the Incas dropped senseless to the floor.
Chapter XII.
AT THE DOOR.
Desiree shrank back against the wall, covering her face with her
hands. Harry stood above the prostrate figure of the king,
panting and furious.
As for me, I gave no thought to what had been done--the imminent
peril of the situation possessed my mind and stung my brain to
action.
I ran to the figure on the floor and bent over him.
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