won't take you
at all; I won't, for a fact."

He was interrupted by a rush of feet upon the back stairs and a
clamorous pounding upon his door. He opened it to let in Maria Macapa,
her hair dishevelled and her eyes starting with terror.

"Oh, MISTER Schouler," she gasped, "lock the door quick. Don't let him
get me. He's got a knife, and he says sure he's going to do for me, if I
don't tell him where it is."

"Who has? What has? Where is what?" shouted Marcus, flaming with
excitement upon the instant. He opened the door and peered down the dark
hall, both fists clenched, ready to fight--he did not know whom, and he
did not know why.

"It's Zerkow," wailed Maria, pulling him back into the room and bolting
the door, "and he's got a knife as long as THAT. Oh, my Lord, here he
comes now! Ain't that him? Listen."

Zerkow was coming up the stairs, calling for Maria.

"Don't you let him get me, will you, Mister Schouler?" gasped Maria.

"I'll break him in two," shouted Marcus, livid with rage. "Think I'm
afraid of his knife?"

"I know where you are," cried Zerkow, on the landing outside. "You're in
Schouler's room. What are you doing in Schouler's room at this time of
night? Come outa there; you oughta be ashamed. I'll do for you yet, my
girl. Come outa there once, an' see if I don't."

"I'll do for you myself, you dirty Jew," shouted Marcus, unbolting the
door and running out into the hall.

"I want my wife," exclaimed the Jew, backing down the stairs. "What's
she mean by running away from me and going into your room?"

"Look out, he's got a knife!" cried Maria through the crack of the door.

"Ah, there you are. Come outa that, and come back home," exclaimed
Zerkow.

"Get outa here yourself," cried Marcus, advancing on him angrily. "Get
outa here."

"Maria's gota come too."

"Get outa here," vociferated Marcus, "an' put up that knife. I see it;
you needn't try an' hide it behind your leg. Give it to me, anyhow," he
shouted suddenly, and before Zerkow was aware, Marcus had wrenched it
away. "Now, get outa here."

Zerkow backed away, peering and peeping over Marcus's shoulder.

"I want Maria."

"Get outa here. Get along out, or I'll PUT you out." The street door
closed. The Jew was gone.

"Huh!" snorted Marcus, swelling with arrogance. "Huh! Think I'm afraid
of his knife? I ain't afraid of ANYBODY," he shouted pointedly, for
McTeague and his wife, roused by the clamor, were peering over the
banisters f