Together they fell, together they rolled in the dirty slime, together they rose as if they had been shot up by a spring, and together they went down again, rolling over each other, pulling, tearing, striking, gasping, and panting.

Cheditafa had gone.  The moment of Mok’s appearance, he had risen and fled.  There were now people in the street.  Some had come out of their houses, hearing the noise of the struggle, for Banker wore heavy shoes.  There were also one or two pedestrians who had stopped, unwilling to pass men who were engaged in such a desperate conflict.

No one interfered.  It would have seemed as prudent to step between two tigers.  Such a bounding, whirling, tumbling, rolling, falling, and rising contest had never been seen in that street, except between cats.  It seemed that the creatures would dash themselves through the windows of the houses.

It was not long before Cheditafa came back with two policemen, all running, and then the men who lay in the street, spinning about as if moving on pivots, were seized and pulled apart.  At first the officers of the law appeared at a loss to know what had happened, and who had been attacked.  What was this black creature from the Jardin des Plantes?  But Banker’s coat had been torn from his back, and his pistol stood out in bold relief in his belt, and Cheditafa pointed to the breathless bandit, and screamed:  “Bad man!  Bad man!  Try to kill me!  This good Mok save my life!”

Two more policemen now came hurrying up, for other people had given the alarm, and it was not considered necessary to debate the question as to who was the aggressor in this desperate affair.  Cheditafa, Mok, and Banker were all taken to the police station.

As Cheditafa was known to be in the service of the American lady at the Hotel Grenade, the portier of that establishment was sent for, and having given his testimony to the good character of the two negroes, they were released upon his becoming surety for their appearance when wanted.

As for Banker, there was no one to go security.  He was committed for trial.

* * * * *

When Ralph went to his room, that night, he immediately rang for his valet.  Mok, who had reached the hotel from the police station but a few minutes before, answered the summons.  When Ralph turned about and beheld the black man, his hair plastered with mud, his face plastered with mud, and what clothes he had on muddy, torn, and awry, with one foot wearing a great overshoe and the other bare, with both black arms entirely denuded of sleeves, with eyes staring from his head, and his whole form quivering and shaking, the young man started as if some afrit of the “Arabian Nights” had come at this dark hour to answer his call.

To the eager questions which poured upon him when his identity became apparent, Mok could make no intelligible answer.  He did not possess English enough for that.  But Cheditafa was quickly summoned, and he explained everything.  He explained it once, twice, three times, and then he and Mok were sent away, and told to go to bed, and under no circumstances to mention to their mistress what had happened, or to anybody who might mention it to her.  And this Cheditafa solemnly promised for both.