The movement gave Potter his opportunity. Wrenching his right hand free he jerked a revolver from his coat pocket and brought the butt against Rodgers' temple with stunning force. Rodgers sagged backward, then regained his balance as Potter's revolver again descended on his head. With a low moan he sank back, overturning a chair in his fall. As Potter bent over the half-conscious man a resounding knock at the apartment door caused him to start upright. One hasty glance about the room showed him that the window overlooking the fire-escape was open. Potter's eyes sought the red coat. It lay on the floor, half hidden under Rodgers. Stooping over, he seized one of the sleeves and tugged at it. The action aroused Rodgers from his stupor and with such strength as remained he grasped the sleeve also. It was an unequal tug-of-war. Potter's cry of triumph was drowned by repeated knocking on the door and the sound of raised voices demanding admittance. Not daring to remain longer, he released his hold on the coat sleeve and bolted through the window and down the fire-escape as an agile elevator boy climbed through the pantry window from an adjoining balcony and popped into the living room. He stopped aghast at sight of Rodgers, torn and bleeding, and the chaotic condition of the overturned furniture. "My Lawd! What's been a-happenin'?" he gasped. "We heered ructions an' I got de police." "Police!" The last word penetrated Rodgers' reeling senses, and his eyes sought the red coat sleeve which he still grasped. "Yes; they're at the do' now," as renewed pounding echoed through the place. "Go and let them in," commanded Rodgers; then, as the boy dashed down the hall, he staggered to his feet over to the small dumb-waiter shaft which was used to carry garbage cans, milk bottles and packages to the apartment. But one idea was uppermost--the police must not get Kitty's red coat. He had just time to open the door and thrust the red coat down the chute and close the door again before two policemen appeared in the room. Stars were dancing before Rodgers' eyes and he brushed his hand across his forehead. He must think--think-- Should he have Potter arrested? No, he would settle the score between them without police aid. His hands clenched at the thought and he straightened up in spite of the increasing sense of faintness which caused his knees to sag under him. "What's happened?" demanded the foremost policeman. "Who attacked you?" "A burglar, evidently," replied Rodgers, sinking down in the nearest chair. "I walked in on him. He went that way--" indicating the fire-escape. "Chase down and see if you can catch him, Mike," ordered the first speaker. "I'll search the apartment for any clues. Here--" observing Rodgers' half-fainting condition--"Good Lord, he's keeled over!"