Then he sank into a chair--a stronger
chair--gingerly; and in a more moderate tone said:

"I'll have the scoundrel's blood. I'll teach him to cross my path."

He paused, considering the matter more coldly, and Pollyooly anxiously
watched his working face. Little by little it grew calmer.

"After all it may not be the scoundrel's fault," he said in a tone of
some magnanimity. "I know what women are--treachery for treachery's
sake. Why should I destroy the poor wretch whose heart has probably
been as scored as mine by the discovery of her treachery? He is a
fellow victim."

"And perhaps you mightn't destroy him--if he's such a good boxer," said
Pollyooly anxiously.

"I should certainly destroy him," said Hilary Vance with a dignified
certainty. "But to what purpose? Would it give me back my unstained
ideal? No. The ideal once tarnished never shines as bright again."

His face was now calm--calm and growing sorrowful. Then a sudden
apprehension appeared on it:

"Besides--suppose I broke a finger--a finger of my right hand. Why
should I give this blackguard a chance of maiming me?" he cried, and
looked at Pollyooly earnestly.

"I don't know, Mr. Vance," said Pollyooly, answering the question in
his urgent eyes.

"If I did break a finger, it might be weeks--months before I could work
again. Why, I might never be able to work again!" he cried.

"That's just what Mr. James was afraid of," said Pollyooly.

"Mr. James! Has he been here?" cried Hilary Vance; and there was far
more uneasiness than pleasure in his tone on thus hearing of his
friend's return.

"Yes. He came to know if you were engaged yet," said Pollyooly.

"Oh, did he?" said Hilary Vance very glumly.

"Yes. And I told him you weren't."

"That's right," he said in a tone of relief.

"And he said we must stop the affray."

"He was right. It would be criminal," said Hilary Vance solemnly.
"After all it isn't myself: I have to consider posterit--"

A sudden, very loud knocking on the front door cut short the word.

"That's him!" said Pollyooly in a hushed voice.

Hilary Vance rose, folded his two big arms, and faced the door of the
studio, his brow knitted in a dreadful frown.

"Hadn't I better send him away?" said Pollyooly anxiously.

Hilary Vance ground his teeth and scowled steadily at the studio door
for a good half-minute. Then he let his arms fall to his sides, walked
with a very haughty air to his bedroom, opened the