Without another word she struck the knife into his arm, and the lantern fell extinguished.
Racksole gave a cry, rather of angry surprise than of pain, and retreated a few steps.

In the darkness they could still perceive the glint of her eyes.
'I told you you mustn't come here,' the woman said.

'Now get back.' Racksole positively laughed.

It was a queer laugh, but he laughed, and he could not help it.

The idea of this woman, this bureau clerk, stopping his progress and that of Prince Aribert by means of a bread-knife aroused his sense of humour.