forward more quickly.  It was midnight, and the street was utterly strange to him.  From the light of the lamps he could see signs in Hebrew and the double eagle of Russia painted on the windows of the saloons.  Long rows of trucks and drays stood ranged along the pavements for the night, and on some of the stoops and fire-escapes of the tenements a few dwarfish specimens of the Polish Jew sat squabbling in their native tongue.

But it was not until they had reached Orchard Street, and when Rivington Street was quite empty, that the man drew up uncertainly beside the girl, and, bending over, stared up in her face, and then, walking on at her side, surveyed her deliberately from head to foot.  For a few steps the girl moved on as apparently unmindful of his near presence as though he were a stray dog running at her side; but when he stepped directly in front of her, she stopped and backed away from him fearfully.  The man hesitated for an instant, and then came on after her, laughing.

Van Bibber had been some distance in the rear.  He reached the curb beside them just as the girl turned back, with the man still following her, and stepped in between them.  He had come so suddenly from out of the darkness that they both started.  Van Bibber did not look at the man.  He turned to the girl, and raised his hat slightly, and recognized Eleanore Cuyler instantly as he did so; but as she did not seem to remember him he did not call her by name, but simply said, with a jerk of his head, “Is this man annoying you?”

Miss Cuyler seemed to wish before everything else to avoid a scene.

“He—­he just spoke to me, that is all,” she said.  “I live only a block below here; if you will please let me go on alone, I would be very much obliged.”

“Certainly, do go on,” said Van Bibber, “but I shall have to follow you until you get in-doors.  You needn’t be alarmed, no one will speak to you.”  Then he turned to the man, and said, in a lower tone, “You wait here till I get back, will you?  I want to talk to you.”

The man paid no attention to him whatsoever.  He was so far misled by Van Bibber’s appearance as to misunderstand the situation entirely.  “Oh, come now,” he said, smiling knowingly at the girl, “you can’t shake me for no dude.”

He put out his hand as he spoke as though he meant to touch her.  Van Bibber pulled his stick from under his arm and tossed it out of his way, and struck the man twice heavily in the face.  He was very cool and determined about it, and punished him, in consequence, much more effectively than if his indignation had made him excited.  The man gave a howl of pain, and stumbled backwards over one of the stoops, where he dropped moaning and swearing, with his fingers pressed against his face.

“Please, now,” begged Van Bibber, quickly turning to Miss Cuyler, “I am very sorry, but if you had only gone when I asked you to.”  He motioned impatiently with his hand.  “Will you please go?”