hick with
passion. "I wanter know, first, where Spike is. And then I wanter know
who you are. And then I wanter know what you're after in Hermy
Chesterton's flat--and you're sure goin' t' tell me!"

"Am I?"

"You sure are!"

Mr. Ravenslee opened the matchbox. "Seems a pity to shake a confidence
so sublime," he sighed. "And yet--"

"An' see here again! I've known Hermy since we was kids, an' I don't
allow no man t' come stamping around here--see? So you're goin' t' quit,
an' you're goin' t' quit right now!"

"Do I look like a quitter, Mr. Flowers?"

Now beholding the speaker's lazy assurance of pose, the contemptuous
indifference of his general air, M'Ginnis stood speechless a moment, his
clenched fists quivering, while, above the loosely-tied scarf, his
powerful neck seemed to swell and show knotted cords that writhed and
twisted, and when at last he spoke, his words came in a panting rush.

"This is Hermy's flat, an' I guess--you think you're safe here--but you
ain't! I'm thinkin' out which'll do th' least harm to her furniture--to
lick ye here or drag you out on to the landin' first!"

Mr. Ravenslee lounged lower in the armchair and yawned behind the box of
matches. And in that moment, like a maddened animal, M'Ginnis leapt upon
him and, striking no blow, seized and shook Ravenslee in powerful,
frantic hands, while from between his lips, curled back from big, white
teeth, came a continuous, vicious, hissing sound.

"I'll wake ye up!" he panted. "Come out--come out, I say--oh, I'll wake
ye up when I get ye outside, I guess. Come out! What you doin' in
Hermy's flat? By God! I'll choke ye till you tell me!" and his hands
came upon Ravenslee's throat--came to be met there by two other hands
that, closing upon his wrists, wrenched and twisted viciously in
opposite directions and, loosing his hold, M'Ginnis fell back, staring
down at bruised and lacerated skin where oozed a few slow drops of
blood.

"And now," said Ravenslee, rising, "after you, Mr. Flowers! Let us by
all means step outside, where we will each earnestly endeavour to pitch
the other down-stairs--personally, I shall do my very damnedest, for
really I don't--no, I do not like you, Mr. Flowers; you need some one
to tread on you a little. Step outside and let _me_ try."

While M'Ginnis stared from his swelling, bloody wrists to Ravenslee's
face--a face quite as fierce and determined as his own--steps were heard
and Spike's voice called:

"Hermy c