Mrs. Denyse in time to
see his daughter in hand-to-hand combat with a man. Observing the man
now about to precipitate himself into the sea, he formulated the theory
of an attempted robbery and escape, and acted with the promptitude which
had made him famous in Wall Street. As he was a decidedly husky one
hundred-and-seventy-pounds' worth, his arrival notably interfered with
the Tyro's projects.

Now the Tyro's naturally equable temper had been disturbed by the other
encounter, and this one loosed its bonds. Here was no softening
consideration of sex. Who the interferer was, the Tyro knew not, nor
cared. He drove an elbow straight into the midsection of the enemy,
lashed out with a heel which landed square on the most sensitive portion
of the shin, broke the relaxed hold with one effort, and charged like a
bull through the crowd now lining the rail at the stern curve,--and
stopped dead, as a general shout, part cheers, part laughter, arose. The
woman was ploughing through the water with great overhand strokes. In a
few seconds she stood on the tender's deck, while the crowd
congratulated and questioned.

"I'm a feesh," she explained, pointing to a crudely embroidered dolphin
on her sleeve, which, as Dr. Alderson explained, meant that she had
undergone the famous swimming test in her own German town of Dessau on
the Mulde.

Meantime two dukes, a ship's pilot, a negro pugilist, a goddess of grand
opera, a noted aviator, and some scores of lesser people looked on in
amazement at the third richest man in America hopping on one foot like
an inebriated and agonized crane, with his other shin clasped in his
hands, and making faces which an amateur photographer hastened to snap,
subsequently suppressing them for reasons of humanity and art.

Several people, including Mrs. Charlton Denyse with two red spots on her
cheeks besides what she had put there herself, endeavored to explain to
the Tyro just what species of high treason he had committed by his
assault, but he was in no mood for gratuitous information, and removed
himself determinedly from their vicinity. Presently Judge Enderby
appeared upon his horizon.

"His leg isn't broken," he announced.

"Whose leg?"

"That of the gentleman you so brutally assaulted. He wants to see you."

"Tell him to go to the devil."

"Oh, I wouldn't do that," soothed the legal veteran, his face twinkling.

"All right. Bring him here and I'll tell him."

"Even though he is Little Mi