gits in de jug. But I'll murder you
if yer don't leave dis place right off."

"I'm not going to leave till I take her with me."

"Den you wont never leave alive."

Pete whipped a knife from his pocket and rushed at Mr. Dootleby,
intending to overwhelm him by a sudden and furious attack. The ivory
cane again came into action. It struck the muscular part of Pete's arm
just below the shoulder. The knife did not reach its destination, but it
inflicted an ugly wound in Mr. Dootleby's hand. Without noticing this,
he closed in on his foe, pouring all the resources of his powerful frame
into a dozen fierce and well-directed blows. The spectators upon the
benches, however indifferent while the brute had been maltreating a
defenseless girl, were now seized with a panic. Two of the men slunk out
into the street. The girls rushed to their rooms, threw on their coats
and street dresses, and escaped also. The battle continued for several
minutes, each man fighting, as he knew, for his life.

Pete was a great human beast. He was far stronger than Mr. Dootleby, but
not nearly so quick and dexterous. The blow on his right arm placed him
at a great disadvantage. Mr. Dootleby knew he could not fight long.
Every second drew heavily upon his vitality. But he made no useless
expenditure of his strength. His blows were intelligently directed
toward the accomplishment of a specific object in the disabling of his
enemy, and each of them did its appointed work. At last exposing himself
by a sudden lunge, Pete was thrown, and he did not rise. He was
unconscious.

So was Mr. Dootleby--almost. His head swam and he leaned heavily against
the wall for support. The blood was dripping from several ugly wounds,
but he revived as he heard Dick remark: "Dat was a beauterful mill. All
right. Bein' a sportin' man myself, I t'ink I knows a good mill w'en I
sees one. De di'mun' belt, ole man, is yourn. All right. Hello! W'y,
where's de trophy gone?"

Mr. Dootleby opened his one available eye, and saw that the only persons
in the room were himself, his beaten enemy, and Dick.

"What's this mean?" he cried. "You pledged your word on fair dealings."

Dick called on all the saints to witness that he did not know where the
girl had gone. "De whole crowd cleared out," he said, "w'en de hustlin'
begun. But she can'ter gone fur. I reckon if you go out in de street
you'll fin' her and de kid wot's helpin' her around somewheres. I'll
sponge off Pete, an' try