t in his heart when he saw Patty, sometimes this game he
was playing which had begun in jest and had turned to earnest. With
John it was the shops, the shops, always and ever the shops. When they
spoke it was in monosyllables. Nevertheless it was restful to each of
them to be so well understood that verbal expression was not
necessary. They had started toward Martin's on the way home, when
Warrington discovered that he was out of cigars. He ran back three or
four doors while John proceeded slowly. Just as he was about to cross
the alley-way a man suddenly lurched out into the light. He was
drunk, but not the maudlin, helpless intoxication that seeks and
invites sociability. He was murderously drunk, strong, nervous,
excited. He barred Bennington's way.

"I thought it was you!" he said venomously.

Bennington drew back and started to pass around the man. He did not
recognize him. He saw in the action only a man disorderly drunk. But
he hadn't taken two steps before the other's words stopped him
abruptly.

"You're a millionaire, eh? Well, I'll soon fix you and your actress
and her lover. Take that as a starter!"

He struck Bennington savagely on the cheek-bone. Bennington stumbled
back, but managed to save himself from falling. Instantly all the war
that was in his soul saw an outlet. He came back, swift as a panther
and as powerful. In an instant his assailant was on his back on the
pavement, the strong fingers tightening about the wretch's throat;
Bolles was a powerful man, but he had not the slightest chance. Not a
sound from either man. There were one or two pedestrians on the
opposite side of the street, but either these did not see or would
not.

Warrington had made a hurried purchase. As he left the cigar store, he
saw the two men fall. He ran up quickly, wondering what the trouble
was. He had no idea that John was one of the men, but as he saw the
light grey suit, and the Panama lying on the ground, he knew.

"For God's sake, John, what are you doing?" he cried.

With a superhuman effort he dragged the enraged man from the prostrate
form in the road. It no longer struggled, but lay inert and without
motion.

"Was I killing him, Dick?" said John, in a quavering voice. "He struck
me and--Am I mad, or has the world turned upside down in a minute?"

"What did he say?" asked Warrington. He was badly frightened. He knelt
at the side of Bolles and felt of his heart. It still beat.

"What did he say? Nothing,