hen a man
stepped out of a dark hallway, and halted in front of me.

Even then, until he spoke, I wasn't really frightened. But when he
did,--I tell you, Emma Ellis and Michael Daragh, all the horror and
wickedness, all the filth and sin of the world seemed to be closing
in on me, stifling me, blinding me, hobbling my feet. All the windows
about me were blank and black; a block and a half ahead of me was a
blaze of light--Boldini's Saloon--"a rotten bad one," Denny had said.

I ran, oh, how I ran, but he ran, too, faster, faster. I tried to
reach out for something to cling to--for a shield--Just fragments
came--"_angels charge over thee ... snare of the fowler ... terror
by night_...."

We were almost at Boldini's Saloon, and I couldn't run any faster,
and twice he had caught hold of my arm.... Suddenly another fragment
came--"_in all thy ways_ ..." _All!_ I ran through the swinging
doors into the saloon, out of the horrid, dark night into the horrid
light, and I stumbled and went down onto my knees and pulled myself
up by the bar, and I heard my voice--"Men--men--_Please_--I was
going to the drug store to telephone--a woman is sick--a baby--she's
all alone there--and this man--this man--" I hung onto the edge of
the bar and everything spun dizzily round with me, but I saw three
men bolt through the door and fall upon him.

Michael Daragh, I suppose some day I can remember with horror how
they beat him, but I can't now. I can't be sorry for him. I can't be
anything but gloatingly glad. They were drunk, all of them, but when
they finished with him they escorted me to the drug store, one on
each side and one marching on before and banged up the night man and
while I telephoned the doctor they waited for me, and then they took
me home.

I wanted to scream with laughter--they couldn't walk straight, two of
them--and I wanted more to cry,--"_angels charge over thee_--" They
were! I shook hands with them and thanked them, and they mounted
guard outside the house and I flew in to my lady.

Well, presently the doctor came, and then the nurse came, and then
Roderick Frost III came, a frantic young man with penitent eyes, and
presently Roderick Frost _IV_ came, a bad-tempered young tenor who
protested lustily at being born in a spot so far removed from his
own rightful social or