ad been spared him and that
he would find all his things at his former lodging-place, Mrs. Wallen's.
Going thither to claim them, he was met at the threshold by Mart, whose
face was gaunt and white and worn, and who no sooner caught sight of the
once revered features of the would-be labor leader than he fell upon
them with his fists and fragmentary malediction. Mart battered and
thumped, while Elmendorf backed and protested. It was a policeman, one
of that body whom ever since '86 Elmendorf had loved to designate as
"blood-hounds of the rich man's laws," who lifted Mart off his prostrate
victim, and Mrs. McGrath who partially raised the victim to his feet. No
sooner, however, had she recognized him than she loosed her hold,
flopped him back into the gutter, and, addressing the policeman, bade
him "Fur the love of hivvin set him on again!" which the policeman
declined to do, despite Mrs. McGrath's magnificent and descriptive
denunciation, addressed to the entire neighborhood, in which Elmendorf's
personal character and professional career came in for glowing and not
altogether inaccurate portrayal. Slowly the dishevelled scholar found
his legs, Mart making one more effort to break away from the grasp of
the law and renew the attack before he was led to the station-house,
where, however, he had not long to languish before a major of cavalry
rode up and bailed him out; but by that time, and without his luggage,
the victim of his wrath had disappeared. "There's three weeks' board
ag'in' it," said Mrs. McGrath, "and the ould lady not buried three days,
and the young lady sick and cryin' her purty eyes out, and divil a cint
or sup in the house for Mart's wife and babies, barrin' what me and Mac
could spare 'em. Och, that's only wan of five-and-twinty families that
furrin loonattic has ruined."

At the camp of his squadron Major Cranston had been informed by his
veteran, McGrath, of the reappearance of Elmendorf, and of the arrest of
Mart for spoiling his beauty. Mac also told something of the straits to
which Mart's family were reduced. Mrs. Mac had known Mrs. Mart in the
days when, as a blooming school-girl, the latter used to trip by the
Cranston homestead, and had striven to aid her through the failing
fortunes of the months preceding Mart's last strike; it was her voluble
account of the state of affairs that prompted this soft-hearted squadron
commander to take Mart by the hand and bid him tell his troubles. Mart
broke do