ittle guttersnipe like that hits me a foul blow,
something happens!"

"There wasn't anything foul about that blow," David said calmly. "That
was a nice clean jab, and nothing like the one you gave me without
warning and while I was sitting down."

"That's enough, David!" Anthony said.

"He started it," David submitted.

Anthony pushed on. Johnson Boller was against the bureau now--had been
there for some seconds, indeed--and his expression was changing. Young
David, to be sure, had rendered him slightly ridiculous for a bit, but
getting mad about it was not likely to help in eliminating David.

"It's all right, Anthony," Mr. Boller said with a sudden grim smile.
"Don't shove me through the wall. I won't hurt the kid."

"You'll not lay hands on him?"

"No."

"That's a promise?"

"Why, of course it is!" Johnson Boller said heartily.

Anthony Fry heaved a great, shaky sigh and stood back. It had not
happened that time. David's wig was still in place, and David was still
David. Yet, all other things apart, what if David's wig had slipped?
What if, during the thirty or forty years he still had to live, Anthony
must have cut out Johnson Boller's really stimulating friendship, or
have listened, day in and day out, night in and night out, at every
meeting and on every sly occasion, to a recital of what had happened
this morning?

The strain was really growing too much. Johnson Boller would have to get
out of here now and--although why was Johnson Boller smiling so sweetly?

"Quite a little boxer, kid, aren't you?" he was asking in the most
friendly fashion.

"I've boxed with my brother," David said.

"Made a study of it, eh?"

"So-so," said David.

They were going to have a little conversation now, which gave Anthony a
minute or two for thought. First he would get Johnson Boller out of here
on the plea that it was time to dress; then he would have David's
man-clothes brought, and, in one way or another, he would persuade David
to don them. It could be worked, the calmer Anthony assured himself, and
then--

"Well, if you're inclined that way, there's nothing like keeping in
shape for it," Mr. Boller was saying as he fumbled at the knot of his
bathrobe. "I'll show you my back muscles and then show you how----"

"_Johnson!_" Anthony exploded.

"Well, what in the name of common sense is the matter with you?" Mr.
Boller cried.

"I--that is to say, David--your confounded back muscles don't interest
him, Jo