He
caught the fellow by the throat and pressed him to the earth,
kneeling on his chest.
"Hold him!" cried von Mitter, coming up with a limp, "hold him
till I knock in his head, damn him!"
"No, no!" said Maurice, "you can't get information out of a dead
man."
"It's all up with me," groaned the Lieutenant. "I'll ask for my
discharge. I could hit nothing, my hand trembled. I was afraid
of shooting into the carriage."
Maurice turned his attention to the man beneath him. "Now, you
devil," he cried, "a clean breast of it, or off the board you go.
O!" suddenly peering down. "By the Lord, so it is you--you--you!"
savagely bumping the fellow's head against the earth. "Spy!"
"You are killing me!"
"Small matter. Who is this fellow?" asked Maurice.
"Johann Kopf, a spy, a police rat, and God knows what else,"
answered von Mitter, limping toward the carriage. "Curse the leg!"
He forced the door and peered inside. "Fainted! I thought as
much." He lifted the inanimate bundle which lay huddled in
between the seats and carried it to the side of the road, where
he tenderly laid it. He rubbed the girl's wrists, unmindful of
the blood which fell from his face and left dark stains on her
dress.
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