ore he was conscious
even of my presence. I addressed him by name. I believe that even my
voice was not upraised.

"Tapilow!" I said.

He turned sharply towards me. I saw him suddenly stiffen, and I saw
his right hand dart as though by instinct to his trousers pocket. But
I was too quick for him. The blood was surging into my ears. Nothing
in the whole room was visible to me but that pale, handsome face with
the thin lips and dark, full eyes. I saw those eyes contract as though
my hand upon his throat were indeed the touch of Death. I shook him
until his collar broke away and his shirt-front flew open, shook him
until from his limp body there seemed no longer any shadow of
resistance. Then I flung him a little away from me, watching all the
time, though, to see that his hand did not move towards that pocket.

"Tapilow," I cried, "defend yourself, you coward! Do you want me to
strangle you where you stand?"

He came for me then with the frenzy of a man who is in a desperate
strait. He was as strong as I, and he had the advantage in height. For
a moment I was borne back. He struck me heavily upon the face, and I
made no attempt to defend myself. I waited my time. When it came, I
dealt him such a blow that he reeled away, and before he could recover
I took him by the back of his neck and flung him from me across the
table which our struggle had already half upset. He lay there, a
shapeless mass, surrounded by broken glass, streaming wine, a little
heap of flowers from the overturned vase. Then the hubbub of the room
was suddenly stilled. A dozen hands were laid upon me.

"For God's sake, monsieur!" I heard Louis cry.

Monsieur Carvin led me away. I looked back once more at the prostrate
figure and then followed him.

"This is not my fault," I said calmly. "He knew quite well that it was
bound to happen. I told him that wherever we next met, whether it was
in a street or a drawing-room, or any place whatsoever upon the face
of the earth, I would deal out his punishment with my own hands, even
though it should spell death. Perhaps," I continued, "you would like
to send for the police. You can have my card, if you like."

"We do not send for the police here," Monsieur Carvin said
hoarsely. "Louis will take you away at once. Where do you stay?"

"At the Ritz," I answered.

"Keep quiet to-morrow!" he exclaimed. "Louis will come to you. This
way."

I shrugged my shoulders. At that moment it mattered little to me
w