e young man judicially. "Particularly, as
I'm not sure, myself. I may want to quarrel with him."

"You won't have the slightest difficulty in that," the girl assured him.

She rang the bell, dispatched a servant, and presently judge Ackroyd
stalked into the room. As Average Jones was being presented, he took
comprehensive note and estimate of the broad-cheeked, thin-lipped face;
the square shoulders and corded neck, and the lithe and formidable
carriage of the man. Judge "Oily" Ackroyd's greeting of the guest within
his gates did not bear out the sobriquet of his public life. It was curt
to the verge of harshness.

"What is the market quotation on beetles, judge?" asked the young man,
tapping the rug with his stick.

"What are you talking about?" demanded the other, drawing down his heavy
brows.

"The black beetle; the humble but brisk haunter of household crevices,"
explained Average Jones. "You advertised for ten thousand specimens.
I've got a few thousand I'd like to dispose of, if the inducements are
sufficient."

"I'm in no mood for joking, young man," retorted the other, rising.

"You seldom are, I understand," replied Average Jones blandly. "Well, if
you won't talk about bugs, let's talk about dogs."

"The topic does not interest me, sir," retorted the other, and the
glance of his eye was baleful, but uneasy.

The tapping of the young man's cane ceased. He looked up into his host's
glowering face with a seraphic and innocent smile.

"Not even if it--er--touched upon a device for guarding the street
corners in case--er--Peter Paul went walking--er--once too often?"

Judge Ackroyd took one step forward. Average Jones was on his feet
instantly, and, even in her alarm, Sylvia Graham noticed how swiftly
and naturally his whole form "set." But the big man turned away, and
abruptly left the room.

"Were you wise to anger him?" asked the girl, as the heavy tread died
away on the stairs.

"Sometimes open declaration of war is the soundest strategy."

"War?" she repeated. "You make me feel like a traitor to my own family."

"That's the unfortunate part of it," he said; "but it can't be helped."

"You spoke of having some one guard the corners of the block," continued
the girl, after a thoughtful silence. "Do you think I'd better arrange
for that?"

"No need. There'll be a hundred people on watch."

"Have you called out the militia?" she asked, twinkling.

"Better than that. I've employed the tools of