week. He spent a pleasant hour there, smoking his huge
porcelain pipe and drinking his beer. He never joined any of the groups
of piquet players around the tables. In fact, he hardly spoke to anyone
but the bartender and Marcus.

For Frenna's was one of Marcus Schouler's haunts; a great deal of his
time was spent there. He involved himself in fearful political and
social discussions with Heise the harness-maker, and with one or two old
German, habitues of the place. These discussions Marcus carried on, as
was his custom, at the top of his voice, gesticulating fiercely, banging
the table with his fists, brandishing the plates and glasses, exciting
himself with his own clamor.

On a certain Saturday evening, a few days after the scene at the
coffee-joint, the dentist bethought him to spend a quiet evening at
Frenna's. He had not been there for some time, and, besides that, it
occurred to him that the day was his birthday. He would permit himself
an extra pipe and a few glasses of beer. When McTeague entered Frenna's
back room by the street door, he found Marcus and Heise already
installed at one of the tables. Two or three of the old Germans sat
opposite them, gulping their beer from time to time. Heise was smoking
a cigar, but Marcus had before him his fourth whiskey cocktail. At the
moment of McTeague's entrance Marcus had the floor.

"It can't be proven," he was yelling. "I defy any sane politician whose
eyes are not blinded by party prejudices, whose opinions are not warped
by a personal bias, to substantiate such a statement. Look at your
facts, look at your figures. I am a free American citizen, ain't I?
I pay my taxes to support a good government, don't I? It's a contract
between me and the government, ain't it? Well, then, by damn! if the
authorities do not or will not afford me protection for life, liberty,
and the pursuit of happiness, then my obligations are at an end; I
withhold my taxes. I do--I do--I say I do. What?" He glared about him,
seeking opposition.

"That's nonsense," observed Heise, quietly. "Try it once; you'll get
jugged." But this observation of the harness-maker's roused Marcus to
the last pitch of frenzy.

"Yes, ah, yes!" he shouted, rising to his feet, shaking his finger in
the other's face. "Yes, I'd go to jail; but because I--I am crushed by a
tyranny, does that make the tyranny right? Does might make right?"

"You must make less noise in here, Mister Schouler," said Frenna, from
be