The Law of the Land by Fred M. White

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The intruder had no time to look about him, he had hardly set foot on the solid oak floor before a figure loomed up before him, and a strong, sinewy hand gripped him by the throat. Utterly taken by surprise, Clarkson reeled back and fell heavily upon a pile of some sort carpet material with which the floor was more or less covered.

He felt now as if he was fighting for his life; he struggled to get that tight grip from his throat. Already the blood was beginning to rush to his head, and his heart commenced to beat like a hammer. It was time for a desperate effort, and he made it. His knee came up suddenly, there was a grunt from his antagonist, and the iron grip relaxed. Clarkson rolled over and over till he came under a window, where the light of the moon streamed in. Then, as his antagonist followed him, he saw his face for the first time.

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