t
squelch him--unless she likes it----" But the idea was so unpleasant
to Barres that he instantly abandoned that train of thought and
prepared for himself a comfortable nest on the lounge, a pipe, and an
uncut volume of flimsy summer fiction.

In the middle of these somewhat sullen preparations, there came a ring
at his studio door. Only the superintendent or strangers rang that
bell as a rule, and Barres went to his desk, slipped his loaded pistol
into his coat pocket, then walked to the door and opened it.

Soane stood there, his face a shiny-red from drink, his legs steady
enough. As usual when drunk, he was inclined to be garrulous.

"What's the matter?" inquired Barres in a low voice.

"Wisha, Misther Barres, sorr, av ye're not too busy f'r to----"

"S-h-h! Don't bellow at the top of your voice. Wait a moment!"

He picked up his hat and came out into the corridor, closing the
studio door behind him so that Dulcie, if she appeared on the scene,
should not be humiliated before the others.

Soane began again, but the other cut him short:

"Don't start talking here," he said. "Come down to your own quarters
if you're going to yell your head off!" And he led the way,
impatiently, down the stairs, past the desk where Miss Kurtz sat
stolid and mottled-faced as a lump of uncooked sausage, and into
Soane's quarters.

"Now, you listen to me first!" he said when Soane had entered and he
had closed the door behind them. "You keep out of my apartment and out
of Dulcie's way, too, when you're drunk! You're not going to last very
long on this job; I can see that plainly----"

"Faith, sorr, you're right! I'm fired out entirely this blessed
minute!"

"You've been discharged?"

"I have that, sorr!"

"What for? Drunkenness?"

"Th' divil do I know phwat for! Wisha, then, Misther Barres, is there
anny harrm av a man----"

"Yes, there is! I told you Grogan's would do the trick for you. Now
you're discharged without a reference, I suppose."

Soane smiled airily:

"Misther Barres, dear, don't lave that worrit ye! I want no riference
from anny landlord. Sure, landlords is tyrants, too! An' phwat the
divil should I be wantin'----"

"What are you going to do then?"

Soane hooked both thumbs into the armholes of his vest, and swaggered
about the room:

"God bless yer kind heart, sorr, I've a-plenty to do and more for good
measure!" He came up to confront Barres, and laid a mysterious finger
alongside his over-red